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BLAZING THE WAY 



—OR- 



TRUE STORIES, SONGS AND SKETCHES 

OF PUGET SOUND AND OTHER 

PIONEERS 



BY 

EMILY INEZ DENNY 



WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY THE AUTHOR AND 
FROM AUTHENTIC PHOTOGRAPHS 




SEATTLE : 

RAINIER PRINTING COMPANY, Inc. 

1909 






Copyright 1899 

By 

EMIL.Y INEZ DENNY 



Published 1909 



C!.A, 24 4 7 60 
AUG'2 *1909 



"^ 






To My Dear Father and Mother, 

Faithful Friends and Counselors, 

Whose pioneer life I shared, 

This book is affectionately dedicated 

By THE AUTHOR 



A star stood large and white awest, 
Then Time uprose and testified ; 
They push'd the mailed wood aside, 
They toss 'd the forest like a toy, 
That great forgotten race of men, 
The boldest band that yet has been 
Together since the siege of Troy, 
And followed it and found their rest. 

—Miller 



PREFACE 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

In the early days when a hunter, explorer 
or settler essayed to tread the mysterious depths 
of the unknown forest of Puget Sound, he took 
care to " blaze the way." At brief intervals he 
stopped to cut with his sharp woodman's ax a 
generous chip from the rough bark of fir, hem- 
lock or cedar tree, leaving the yellow inner bark 
or wood exposed, thereby providing a perfect 
guide by which he retraced his steps to the canoe 
or cabin. As the initial stroke it may well be 
emblematical of the beginnings of things in the 
great Northwest. 

I do not feel moved to apologize for this 
book ; I have gathered the fragments within my 
reach; such or similar works are needed to set 
forth the life, character and movement of the 
early days on Puget Sound. The importance 
of the service of the Pioneers is as yet dimly 
perceived; what the Pilgrim Fathers were to 
New England, the Pioneers were to the Pacific 
Coast, to the " nations yet to be," who, follow- 
ing in their footsteps, shall people the wilds 
with teeming cities, a " human sea," bearing on 
its bosom argosies of priceless worth. 

m 



PREFACE— Continued 

It does contain some items and incidents 
not generally known or heretofore published. I 
hope others may be provoked to record their 
pioneer experiences. 

I have had exceptional opportunities in 
listening to the thrice-told tales of parents and 
friends who had crossed the plains, as w r ell as 
personal recollections of experiences and ob- 
servation during a residence of over fifty years 
in the Northwest, acknowledging also the good 
fortune of having been one of the first white 
children born on Puget Sound. 

Every old pioneer has a store of memories 
of adventures and narrow escapes, hardships 
bravely endured, fresh pleasures enjoyed, rude 
but genial merrymakings, of all the fascinating 
incidents that made up the wonder-life of long 
ago. 

Chronology is only a row of hooks to hang 
the garments of the past upon, else they may 
fall together in a confused heap. 

Not having a full line of such supports on 
which to hang the weaving of my thoughts — I 
simply overturn my Indian basket of chips 
picked up after " Blazing the Way," they being 
merely bits of beginnings in the Northwest. 

E. I. Denny. 



Note— The poem referred to on page 144 will appear in another 
work. — Author. 

[8] 



INDEX 



PART I— THE GREAT MARCH 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Crossing the Plains 17 

II. Down the Columbia in '51 34 

III. The Settlement at Alki 41 

IV. Founding of Seattle and Indian War...: 63 

V. The Murder of McCormick 96 

VI. Killing Cougars 105 

VII. Pioneer Child Life 113 

VIII. Marching Experiences of Esther 

Chambers 151 

IX. An Olympia Woman's Trip Across the 

Plains in 1851 168 

X. Captain Henry Roeder on the Trail 177 



PART II— MEN, WOMEN AND ADVENTURES 
I. Song of the Pioneers 182 

II. Biographical Notes and Sketches, 

John Denny, Sarah Latimer Denny 186 

III. David Thomas Denny 203 

IV. The First Wedding on Elliott Bay 257 

V. Louisa Boren Denny 272 

Va Madge Decatur Denny 288 

Vb Anna Louisa Denny 294 

Vc William Richard Boren 300 

VI. Arthur A. Denny, Mary A. Denny 305 

[9] 



INDEX—Continued 



CHAPTER PAGE 

VII. Henry Van Asselt of Duwamish 320 

VIII. Thomas Mercer .....329 

IX. Dr. Henry A. Smith, the Brilliant 

Writer 344 

X. Famous Indian Chiefs 358 



PART III— INDIAN LIFE AND SETTLERS' 
BEGINNINGS 

I. Savage Deeds of Savage Men 391 

II. Pioneer Jokes and Anecdotes 415 

III. Trails of Commerce „.436 

IV. Building of the Territorial University 452 

V. A Chehalis Letter, Penned in '52 467 

VI. Some Pioneers of Port Townsend 479 

VII. Personnel of the Pioneer Army 489 



[10] 



SYNOPSIS OF INCIDENTS, 



Part I. 

Page 
Chapter I — Crossing the Plains — Names of the Denny 

Company 20 

Attacked by Indians at American Falls 27 

Chapter II — A Narrow Escape from Going Over the 

Cascades 36 

About to Sink in the Cold Waters of the Co- 
lumbia 38 

Chapter III — Tramping a Long Trail 42 

Landing of J. N. Low, D. T. Denny and Lee 
Terry at Sgwudux (West Seattle) 43 

Exploring the Duwampsh River . 44 

Names of Party from "Exact" 50 

Chapter IV — A Visit from Wolves 66 

A Flight to Fort Decatur . 76 

Battle of Seattle 80 

Story of John I. King's Capture 91 

Chapter V— A Tragedy of the Trail 98 

Chapter VI — A Hair-raising Hunt for a Cougar 107 

Chapter VII — Seeking the Dead Among the Living.. 121 

The Strawberry of Memory 126 

Three Little Girls and a Pioneer "Fourth". 131 

A Rescue from Drowning 138 

Chapter VIII — Frontier Experiences 151 

Chapter IX — Placating Indians on the Plains 171 

Chapter X — Capt. Roeder's Meeting with the Bandit 

Joaquin 180 

[ii] 



SYNOPSIS OF INCIDENTS-Continued 

Part II. 

Page 
Chapter I — Poem — Song of the Pioneers 182 

Chapter II — A Notable Pioneer Reformer, John 

Denny 188 

Chapter III — A Tireless Foundation Builder, David 

Thomas Denny 203 

Threats from Anti-Chinese Agitators 211 

His Own Account of Arrival on Elliott Bay.— 214 

Surrounded by Indians 243 

Trials and Triumph 256 

Chapter IV — A Lively Celebration of the First Wed- 
ding on Elliott Bay 258 

Story of a Bear Hunt 268 

Chapter V — Indian Courtship 275 

On the Day of Battle 276 

Chapter VI — Discovery of Shilshole or Salmon Bay.. 310 

An Escape from Murderous Savages 313 

Defense with a Hatchet 316 

Chapter VII — Immune Because of Indian Supersti- 
tion 323 

Chapter VIII — Saving an Auburn-haired Girl 341 

Chapter IX — A Grand Description of a Vast Forest 

Fire 350 

Poem— -"The Mortgage" 352 

Poem— "Pacific's Pioneers" 354 

Chapter X — Hanging of Leschi 370 

Poem— "The Chief's Reply" 388 

Part III. 

Chapter I — Shooting of Lachuse 392 

The Fight at Fort Nesqually : 395 

Abbie Casto's Fate 409 

[12] 



SYNOPSIS OF INCIDENTS— Continued 

Page 
Chapter II— How the Old Shell Blew Up a Stump 

and Cautioned Mr. Horton 423 

Mr. Beaty and the Cheese 425 

Chapter III— Poem— " The Beaver's Requiem"... 436 

Chapter IV— Poem— "The Voice of the Old Univer- 
sity Bell" 459 

Chapter V — Charming Description of Early Days on 

the Chehalis 467 

Chapter VI — Founding of Port Townsend 481 

Chapter VII— A Number of Noted Names 489 

Poem— "Hail, and Farewell" 503 




[13] 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



I 


Fort Decatur, Jan. 26, 1856 Frontispiece 


II 


Chips Picked Up Facing page 17 


III 


Bargaining with Indians at Alki " 


49 


IV 


Indian Canoes Sailing with North 
Wind ' ' 


81 


V 


Log Cabin in the Swale il 


105 


VI 


Where We Wandered Long Ago.. " 


" 113 


VII 


A Visit from Our Tillicum " 


145 


VIII 


Sarah, John and Loretta Denny.... " 


" 193 


IX 


David Thomas Denny " 


" 209 


X 


Sons of L. B. and D. T. Denny.... " 


" 241 


XI 


Louisa B. Denny " 


" 257 


XII 


A Flower Garden Planted by L. 
B. Denny " 


" 273 


xin 


Daughters of D. T. and L. B. 
Denny " 


" 289 


XIV 


Erythronium of Lake Union " 


" 337 


XV 


Types of Indian Houses " 


" S60 


XVI 


Last Voyage of the Lumei " 


385 


XVII 


A Few Artifacts of P. S. Indians " 


" 401 


XVIII 


Ship Belle Isle " 


" 481 


XIX 


Rev. Blaine, C. D. and Wm. R. 
Boren " 


" 489 


XX 


Mrs. L. C. Low " 


Ci 493 







'CHIPS PICKED UP AFTER BLAZING THE WAY' 



BLAZING THE WAY 



PART I.— THE GREAT MARCH 



CHAPTER I 

CEOSSING THE PLAINS. 

With Faith's clear eye we saw afar 
In western sky our empire's star, 
And strong of heart and brave of soul, 
We marched and marched to reach the goal. 
Unrolled a scroll, the great, gray plains, 
And traced thereon our wagon trains; 
Our blazing camp-fires marked the road 
As night succeeding night they glowed. 

— Song of the Pioneers. 

The noble army of courageous, enduring, 
persistent, progressive pioneers who from time 
to time were found threading their way across 
the illimitable wilderness, forty or fifty years 
ago, in detached companies, often unknown and 
unknowing each other, have proved conclusively 
that an age of marvelous heroism is but recently 
past. 

The knowledge, foresight, faith and force 
exhibited by many of these daring men and 

[17] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

women proclaimed them endowed with the 
genius of conquerors. 

The merely physical aspect of the under- 
taking is overpowering. To transport them- 
selves and their effects in slow and toilsome 
ways, through hundreds of miles of weary 
wilderness, uninhabited except by foes, over 
beetling mountain ranges, across swift and dan- 
gerous rivers, through waterless deserts, in the 
shadow of continual dread, required a fortitude 
and staying power seldom equaled in the history 
of human effort. 

But above and beyond all this, they carried 
the profound convictions of Christian men and 
women, of patriots and martyrs. They battled 
with the forces of Nature and implacable 
enemies ; they found, too, that their moral battles 
must be openly fought year after year, often in 
the face of riotous disregard of the laws of God 
and man. Arrived at their journey's end, they 
planted the youngest scions of the Tree of Lib- 
erty; they founded churches and schools, care- 
fully keeping the traditions of civilization, yet 
in many things finding greater and truer free- 
dom than they had left behind. 

The noblest of epics, masterpieces of paint- 
ing, stupendous operas or the grandest spectacu- 
lar drama could but meagerly or feebly express 
the characters, experiences and environment of 
those who crossed the plains for the Pacific slope 
in the midst of the nineteenth century. 

[18] 



CROSSING THE PLAINS. 

"A mighty nation moving west, 
With all its steely sinews set 
Against the living forests. Hear 
The shouts, the shots of pioneers! 
The rended forests, rolling wheels, 
As if some half-checked army reels, 
Recoils, redoubles, comes again, 
Loud-sounding like a hurricane." 

—Joaquin Miller. 

It is my intenton to speak more especially 
of one little company who were destined to take 
a prominent part in the laying of foundations in 
the State of Washington. 

Previous to 1850, glowing accounts of the 
fertility, mildness, beauty and general desira- 
blity of Oregon Territory, which then included 
Washington, reached the former friends and ac- 
quaintances of Parley Pierce, Liberty Wallace, 
the Rudolphs and others who wrote letters con- 
cerning this favored land. Added to the im- 
pression made thereby, the perusal of Fremont's 
travels, the desire for a change of climate from 
the rigorous one of Illinois, the possession of a 
pioneering spirit and the resolution was taken, 
"To the far Pacific Coast we will go"; acting 
upon it, they took their places in the great move- 
ment having for its watchword, "Westward 
Ho!" 

John Denny, a Kentuckian by birth, a pio- 
neer of Indiana and Illinois, whose record as a 
soldier of 1812, a legislator in company and fra- 
ternal relations with Lincoln, Baker, Gates and 

[19] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

Trumbull, distinguished him for the most ad- 
mirable qualities, was the leading spirit; his 
wife, Sarah Latimer Denny, a Tennessean, 
thrifty, wise, faithful and far-seeing, who had 
for many widowed years previous to her mar- 
riage to John Denny, wrought out success in 
making a home and educating her three children 
in Illinois, was a fit leader of pioneer women. 

These, with their grown-up sons and daugh- 
ters, children and grandchildren, began the great 
journey across the plains, starting from Cherry 
Grove, Knox County, Illinois, on April 10th, 
1851. Pour "prairie schooners," as the canvas- 
covered wagons were called, three of them drawn 
by four-horse teams, one with a single span, a 
few saddle horses and two faithful watchdogs, 
whose value is well known to those who have 
traveled the wilds, made up the train. 

The names of these brave-hearted ones, 
ready to dare and endure all, are as follows : 

John Denny, Sarah Latimer Denny and their 
little daughter, Loretta ; A. A. Denny, Mary A. 
Denny and their two children, Catherine and 
Lenora; C. D. Boren, Mrs. Boren and their 
daughter, Gertrude ; the only unmarried woman, 
Miss Louisa Boren, sister of Mrs. A. A. Denny 
and C. D. Boren; C. Crawford and family; four 
unmarried sons of John Denny, D. T. Denny, 
James, Samuel and Wiley Denny. 

The wrench of parting with friends made 
a deep and lasting wound; no doubt every old 

[20] 



GROSSING THE PLAINS. 

pioneer of the Pacific Coast can recall the 
anguish of that parting, whose scars the healing 
years have never effaced. 

The route followed by our pioneers was the 
old emigrant road along the north side of the 
Platte River, down the Columbia and up the 
Willamette to Portland, Oregon Territory, 
which they afterwards left for their ultimate 
destination, Puget Sound, where they found 
Nature so bountiful, a climate so moderate and 
their surroundings so ennobling that I have 
often heard them say they had no wish to return 
to dwell in the country from whence they came. 

Past the last sign of civilization, the Mor- 
mon town of Kanesville, a mile or two east of 
the Missouri River, the prairie schooners were 
fairly out at sea. The great Missouri was 
crossed at Council Bluffs by ferryboat on the 
5th of May. The site of the now populous city 
of Omaha was an untrodden waste. From thence 
they followed the beaten track of the many who 
had preceded them to California and Oregon. 

Hundreds of wagons had ground their way 
over the long road before them, and beside this 
road stretched the narrower beaten track of the 
ox-drivers. 

On the Platte, shortly after crossing the 
Missouri, a violent thunderstorm with sheets of 
rain fell upon them at night, blowing down their 
tents and saturating their belongings, thereby 
causing much discomfort and inconvenience. Of 

[21] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

necessity the following day was spent in drying 
out the whole equipment. 

It served as a robust initiation in roughing 
it ; up to that time they had carefully dressed in 
white night robes and lay down in neatly made 
beds, but many a night after this storm were 
glad to rest in the easiest way possible, when 
worn by travel and too utterly weary of the long 
day's heat and dust, with grinding and bumping 
of wheels, to think of the niceties of dainty liv- 
ing. 

For a time spring smiled on all the land; 
along the Platte the prairies stretched away on 
either hand, delightfully green and fresh, on the 
horizon la}' fleecy white clouds, islands of vapor 
in the ethereal azure sea above ; but summer came 
on apace and the landscape became brown and 
parched. 

The second day west of the Missouri our 
train fell in with a long line of eighteen wagons 
drawn by horses, and fraternizing with the occu- 
pants, joined in one company. This new com- 
pany elected John Denny as Captain. It did not 
prove a harmonious combination, however; dis- 
cord arose, and nowhere does it seem to arise so 
easily as in camp. There was disagreement 
about standing guard ; fault was found with the 
Captain and another was elected, but with no 
better results. Our pioneers found it convenient 
and far pleasanter to paddle their own canoes, 

[22] 



CROSSING THE PLAINS. 

or rather prairie schooners, and so left the con- 
tentious ones behind. 

Long days of travel followed over the monot- 
onous expanse of prairie, each with scarcely 
varying incidents, toils and dangers. The stir 
of starting in the morning, the morning forward 
movement, the halt for the noonday meal, cooked 
over a fire of buffalo chips, and the long, weary 
afternoon of heat and dust whose passing 
brought the welcome night, marked the journey 
through the treeless region. 

At one of the noonings, the hopes of the 
party in a gastronomic line were woefully dis- 
appointed. A pailful of choice home-dried 
peaches, cooked with much care, had been set on 
a wagon tongue to cool and some unlucky move- 
ment precipitated the whole luscious, juicy mass 
into the sand below. It was an occurrence to 
make the visage lengthen, so far, far distant were 
the like of them from the hungry travelers. 

Fuel was scarce a large part of the way until 
west of Fort Laramie, the pitch pine in the Black 
Hills made such fires as delight the hearts of 
campers. In a stretch of two hundred miles but 
one tree was seen, a lone elm by the river Platte, 
which was finally cut down and the limbs used 
for firewood. When near this tree, the train 
camped over Sunday, and our party first saw 
buffaloes, a band of perhaps twenty. D. T. 
Denny and C. D. Boren of the party went hunt- 
ing in the hills three miles from the camp but 

[23] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

other hunters had been among them and scat- 
tered the band, killing only one or two; how- 
ever they generously divided the meat with the 
new arrivals. Our two good hunters determined 
to get one if possible and tried stalking a shaggy- 
maned beast that was separated from the herd, 
a half mile from their horses left picketed on 
the grassy plain. Shots were fired at him with- 
out effect and he ran away unhurt, fortunately 
for himself as well as his pursuers. One of the 
hunters, D. T. Denny, said it might have been a 
very serious matter for them to have been 
charged by a wounded buffalo out on the tree- 
less prairie where a man had nothing to dodge 
behind but his own shadow. 

On the prairie before they reached Fort 
Laramie a blinding hailstorm pelted the travel- 
ers. 

D. T. Denny, who was driving a four-horse 
team in the teeth of the storm, relates that the 
poor animals were quite restive, no doubt suffer- 
ing much from their shelterless condition. They 
had been well provided for as to food; their 
drivers carried corn which lasted for two hun- 
dred miles. The rich grass of five hundred miles 
of prairie afforded luxurious living beyond this, 
and everywhere along the streams where camp 
was made there was an abundance of fresh herb- 
age to be found. 

Many lonely graves were seen, graves of 
pioneers, with hopes as high, mayhap, as any, 

[24] 



CROSSING THE PLAINS. 

but who pitched their silent tents in the wilder- 
ness to await the Judgment Day. 

A deep solemnity fell upon the living as the 
train wound along, where on the side of a moun- 
tain was a lone grave heaped up with stones to 
protect it from the ravages of wolves. Tall pines 
stood around it and grass and flowers adorned 
it with nature's broidery. Several joined in sing- 
ing an old song beginning 

"I came to the place 

Where the white pilgrim lay, 

And pensively stood by his tomb, 

When in a low whisper I heard something say, 

'How sweetly I sleep here alone.' " 

Echoed only by the rustling of the boughs of 
scattered pines, moving gently in the wind. 

As they approached the upheaved moun- 
tainous country, lively interest, a keen delight in 
the novelty of their surroundings, and surprise 
at unexpected features were aroused in the minds 
of the travelers. 

A thoughtful one has said that the weird 
beauty of the Wind River Mountains impressed 
her deeply, their image has never left her mem- 
ory and if she were an artist she could faithfully 
represent them on canvas. 

A surprise to the former prairie dwellers 
was the vast extent of the mountains, their imag- 
inations having projected the sort of mountain 
range that is quite rare, a single unbroken ridge 

2a- [25] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

traversed by climbing up one side and going down 
the other ! But they found this process must be 
repeated an indefinite number of times and over 
such roughness as their imaginations had never 
even suggested. 

What grinding, heaving and bumping over 
huge boulders! What shouting and urging of 
animals, what weary hours of tortured endur- 
ance dragged along! One of them remembers, 
too, perhaps vaguely, the suffering induced by an 
attack of the mysterious mountain fever. 

The desert also imposed its tax of misery. 
Only at night could the desert be safely crossed. 
Starting at four o'clock in the afternoon they 
traveled all the following night over an arid, 
desolate region, the Green Eiver desert, thirty 
miles, a strange journey in the dimness of a 
summer night with only the star-lamps overhead. 
In sight of the river, the animals made a rush 
for the water and ran in to drink, taking the 
wagons with them. 

Often the names of the streams crossed were 
indicative of their character, suggestive of ad- 
venture or descriptive of their surroundings. 
Thus " Sweetwater" speaks eloquently of the re- 
freshing draughts that slaked the thirst in con- 
trast with the alkaline waters that were bitter; 
Burnt River flowed past the blackened remains 
of an ancient forest and Bear River may have 
been named for the ponderous game secured by 
a lucky hunter. 

[26] 



GROSSING THE PLAINS. 

By July of 1851 the train reached Old Port 
Hall, composed of a stockade and log houses, 
situated on the Snake River, whose flood set to- 
ward the long-sought Pacific shore. 

While camped about a mile from the fort the 
Superintendent wrote for them directions for 
camping places where wood and water could be 
obtained, extending over the whole distance from 
Port Hall to the Dalles of the Columbia River. 
He told James Denny, brother of D. T. Denny, 
that if they met Indians they must on no account 
stop at their call, saying that the Indians of that 
vicinity were renegade Shoshones and horse 
thieves. 

On the morning of the fifth of July an old 
Indian visited the camp, but no significance was 
attached to the incident, and all were soon mov- 
ing quietly along in sight of the Snake River; 
the road lay on the south side of the river, which 
is there about two hundred yards wide. An en- 
campment of Indians was observed, on the north 
side of the river, as they wound along by the 
American Palls, but no premonition of danger 
was felt, on the contrary, they were absorbed in 
the contemplation of the falls and basin below. 
Dark objects were seen to be moving on the sur- 
face of the wide pool and all supposed them to 
be ducks disporting themselves after the manner 
of harmless water fowl generally. What was 
their astonishment to behold them swiftly and 
simultaneously approach the river bank, spring 

[27] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

out of the water and reveal themselves full grown 
savages ! 

With guns and garments, but few of the 
latter probably, on their heads, they swam across 
and climbed up the bank to the level of the 
sage brush plain. The leader, attired in a plug 
hat and long, black overcoat flapping about his 
sinewy limbs, gun in hand, advanced toward the 
train calling out, " How-de-do ! How-de-do ! Stop ! 
Stop ! ' ' twice repeating the words. The Captain, 
Grandfather John Denny, answered "Go back," 
emphasizing the order by vigorous gestures. 
Mindful of the friendly caution of the Superin- 
tendent at Fort Hall, the train moved on. The 
gentleman of the plains retired to his band, who 
dodged back behind the sagebrush and began 
firing at the train. One bullet threw up the dust 
under the horse ridden by one of the company. 
The frightened women and children huddled 
down as low as possible in the bottoms of the 
wagons, expecting the shots to penetrate the can- 
vas walls of their moving houses. In the last 
wagon, in the most exposed position, one of the 
mothers sat pale and trembling like an aspen 
leaf; the fate of the young sister and two little 
daughters in the event of capture, beside the 
danger of her own immediate death were too 
dreadful to contemplate. In their extremity one 
said, "O, why don't they hurry! If I were driv- 
ing I would lay on the lash!" 

When the Indians found that their shots 

[28] 



CROSSING THE PLAINS. 

took no effect, they changed their tactics and ran 
down along the margin of the river under shelter 
of the bank, to head off the train at a point where 
it must go down one hill and up another. There 
were seven men with five rifles and two rifle- 
pistols, but these would have been of little avail 
if the teams had been disabled. D. T. Denny 
drove the forward wagon, having one rifle and 
the pistols ; three of the men were not armed. 

All understood the maneuver of the Indians 
and were anxious to hurry the teams unless it 
was Captain John Denny, who was an old soldier 
and may have preferred to fight. 

Sarah Denny, his wife, looked out and saw 
the Indians going down the river; no doubt she 
urged him to whip up. The order was given and 
after moments that seemed hours, down the long 
hill they rushed pell-mell, without lock or brake, 
the prairie schooners tossing like their namesakes 
on a stormy sea. What a breathless, panting, 
nightmare it seemed ! If an axle had broken or a, 
linchpin loosened the race would have been lost. 
But on, madly careening past the canyon where 
the Indians intended to intercept them, tearing 
up the opposite hill with desperate energy, ex- 
pecting every moment to hear the blood-curdling 
warwhoop, nor did they slacken their speed to 
the usual pace for the remainder of the day. As 
night approached, the welcome light of a camp- 
fire, that of J. N. Low's company, induced them 
to stop. This camp was on a level near a bluff; 

[29] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

a narrow deep stream flowed by into the Snake 
River not far away. The cattle were corraled, 
with the wagons in a circle and a fire of brush- 
wood built in the center. 

Around the Denny company's campfire, the 
women who prepared the evening meal were in 
momentary fear of receiving a shot from an am- 
bushed foe, lit as they were against the dark- 
ness, but happily their fears were not realized. 
Weary as the drivers were, guards were posted 
and watched all night. The dogs belonging to 
the train were doubtless a considerable protec- 
tion, as they would have given the alarm had the 
enemy approached. 

One of the women went down to the brook 
the next morning to get water for the camp and 
saw the tracks of Indian ponies in the dust on the 
opposite side of the stream. Evidently they had 
followed the train to that point, but feared to at- 
tack the united forces of the two camps. 

After this race for life the men stood guard 
every night ; one of them, D. T. Denny, was on 
duty one-half of every other night and alternate- 
ly slept on the ground under one of the wagons. 

This was done until they reached the Cayuse 
country. On Burnt Eiver they met thirty war- 
riors, the advance guard of their tribe who were 
moving, women, children, drags and dogs. The 
Indians were friendly and cheeringly announced 
"Heap sleep now; we are good Indians." 

The Denny and Low trains were well pleased 

[30] 



CROSSING THE PLAINS. 

to join their forces and traveled as one company 
until they reached their journey's end. 

The day after the Indian attack, friendly 
visits were made and Mrs. J. N. Low recalls that 
she saw two women of Denny's company frying 
cakes and doughnuts over the campfire, while 
two others were well occupied with the youngest 
of the travelers, who were infants. 

There were six men and two women in Low's 
company and when the two companies joined 
they felt quite strong and traveled unmolested 
the remainder of the way. 

An exchange of experiences brought out the 
fact that Low's company had crossed the Mis- 
souri the third day of May and had traveled on 
the south side of the Platte at the same time the 
Denny company made their way along the 
north side of the same stream. 

At a tributary called Big Blue, as Mrs. Low 
relates, she observed the clouds rolling up and 
admonished her husband to whip up or they 
would not be able to cross for days if they de- 
layed; they crossed, ascended the bluffs where 
there was a semicircle of trees, loosed the cattle 
and picketed the horses. By evening the storm 
reached them with lightning, heavy thunder and 
great piles of hail. The next morning the water 
had risen half way up tall trees. 

The Indians stole the lead horse of one of the 
four-horse teams and Mrs. Low rode the other on 
a man's saddle. Many western equestriennes 

[31] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

have learned to be not too particular as to horse, 
habit or saddle and have proven also the greater 
safety and convenience of cross-saddle riding. 

In the Black Hills while traveling along the 
crest of a high ridge, where to get out of the road 
would have been disastrous, the train was met by 
a band of Indians on ponies, who pressed up to 
the wagons in a rather embarrassing way, bent 
apparently upon riding between and separating 
the teams, but the drivers were too wise to per- 
mit this and kept close together, without stopping 
to parley with them, and after riding alongside 
for some distance, the designing but baffled red- 
skins withdrew. 

The presence of the native inhabitants some- 
times proved a convenience ; especially was this 
true of the more peaceable tribes of the far west. 
On the Umatilla River the travelers were glad 
to obtain the first fresh vegetable since leaving 
the cultivated gardens and fields of their old 
homes months before. One of the women traded 
a calico apron for green peas, which were re- 
garded as a great treat and much enjoyed. 

Farther on, as they neared the Columbia, 
Captain Low, who was riding ahead of the train, 
met Indians with salmon, eager to purchase so 
fine a fish and not wishing to stop the wagon, 
pulled off an overshirt over his head and ex- 
changed it for the piscatorial prize. 

The food that had sustained them on the 
long march was almost military in its simplic- 

[32] 



CROSSING THE PLAINS. 

ity. Corn meal, flour, rice (a little, as it was not 
then in common use), beans, bacon and dried 
fruits were the main dependence. They could 
spend but little time hunting and fishing. On 
Bear River " David" and "Louisa" each caught 
a trout, fine, speckled beauties. "David" and 
the other hunters of the company also killed sage 
hens, antelope and buffalo. 

After leaving the Missouri River they had 
no opportunity to buy anything until they 
reached the Snake River, where they purchased 
some dried salmon of the Indians. 



L33] 



CHAPTER II 

DOWN THE COLUMBIA IN '51. 

After eighty days travel over one thousand 
seven hundred sixty-five miles of road these 
weary pilgrims reached the mighty river of the 
West, the vast Columbia. 

At The Dalles, the road Across the Plains 
was finished, from thence the great waterways 
would lead them to their journey's end. 

It was there the immigrants first feasted on 
the delicious river salmon, fresh from the foam- 
ing waters. The Indians boiled theirs, making 
a savory soup, the odor of which would almost 
have fed a hungry man ; the white people cooked 
goodly pieces in the trusty camp frying pan. 

Not then accustomed to such finny monsters, 
they found a comparison for the huge cuts as 
like unto sides of pork, and a receptacle for the 
giant's morsels in a seaworthy washingtub. How- 
ever, high living will pall unto the taste ; one may 
really tire of an uninterrupted piscatorial ban- 
quet, and one of the company, A. A. Denny, de- 
clared his intention of introducing some variety 
in the bill of fare. " Plague take it," he said, 
"I'm tired of salmon — I'm going to have some 
chicken." 

But alas! the gallinaceous fowl, roaming 
freely at large, had also feasted frequently on 

[34] 



DOWN THE COLUMBIA IN '51. 

fragments no longer fresh of the overplus of sal- 
mon, and its flavor was indescribable, wholly im- 
possible, as the French say. It was " fishy" fish 
rather than fowl. 

At The Dalles the company divided, one 
party composed of a majority of the men started 
over the mountains with the wagons and teams ; 
the women and children prepared to descend the 
river in boats. 

In one boat, seated on top of the " plunder" 
were Mrs. A. A. Denny and two children, Miss 
Louisa Boren, Mrs. Low and four children and 
Mrs. Boren and one child. The other boat was 
loaded in like manner with a great variety of use- 
ful and necessary articles, heaped up, on top of 
which sat several women and children, among 
whom were Mrs. Sarah Denny, grandmother of 
the writer, and her little daughter, Loretta. 

A long summer day was spent in floating 
down the great canyon where the majestic Co- 
lumbia cleaves the Cascade Range in twain. The 
succeeding night the first boat landed on an 
island in the river, and the voyagers went ashore 
to camp. During the night one of the little girls, 
Gertrude Boren, rolled out of her bed and nar- 
rowly escaped falling into the hurrying stream ; 
had she done so she must have certainly been 
lost, but a kind Providence decreed otherwise. 
Re-embarking the following day, gliding swiftly 
on the current, they traversed a considerable 

[35] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

distance and the second night approached the 
Cascades. 

Swifter and more turbulent, the rushing 
flood began to break in more furious foam- 
wreaths on every jagged rock, impotently striv- 
ing to stay its onward rush to the limitless ocean. 

Sufficient light enabled the observing eye tq 
perceive the writhing surface of the angry wat- 
ers, but the boatmen were stupified with drink! 

All day long they had passed a bottle about 
which contained a liquid facetiously called " Blue 
Ruin" and near enough their ruin it proved. 

I have penned the following description 
which met with the approval of one of the prin- 
cipal actors in what so nearly proved a tragedy : 

It was midnight on the mighty Columbia. 
A waning moon cast a glowworm light on the 
dark, rushing river ; all but one of the weary wo- 
men and tired little children were deeply sunken 
in sleep. The oars creaked and dipped monoton- 
ously; the river sang louder and louder every 
boat's length. Drunken, bloated faces leered 
foolishly and idiotically; they admonished each 
other to "Keep 'er goinV 

The solitary watcher stirred uneasily, looked 
at the long lines of foam out in midstream and 
saw how fiercely the white waves contended, and 
far swifter flew the waters than at any hour be- 
fore. What was the meaning of it ? Hark ! that 
humming, buzzing, hissing, nay, bellowing roar! 
The blood flew to her brain and made her senses 

[36] 



DOWN THE COLUMBIA IN '51. 

reel ; they must be nearing the last landing above 
the falls, the great Cascades of the Columbia. 

But the crew gave no heed. 

Suddenly she cried out sharply to her sleep- 
ing sister, "Mary! Mary! wake up! we are near- 
ing the falls, I hear them roar." 

"What is it, Liza?" she said sleepily. 

"O, wake up! we shall all be drowned, the 
men don't know what they are doing." 

The rudely awakened sleepers seemed dazed 
and did not make much outcry, but a strong 
young figure climbed over the mass of baggage 
and confronting the drunken boatmen, plead, 
urged and besought them, if they considered 
their own lives, or their helpless freight of hu- 
manity, to make for the shore. 

"Oh, men," she pleaded, "don't you hear the 
falls, they roar louder now. It will soon be too 
late, I beseech you turn the boat to shore. Look 
at the rapids beyond us ! " 

"Thar haint no danger, Miss, leastways not 
yet; wots all this fuss about anyhow? No dan- 
ger," answered one who was a little disturbed; 
the others were almost too much stupified to un- 
derstand her words and stood staring at the bare- 
headed, black haired young woman as if she were 
an apparition and were no more alarmed than 
if the warning were given as a curious mechanical 
performance, having no reference to themselves. 

Repeating her request with greater earnest- 
ness, if possible, a man's voice broke in saying, 

[37] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

"I believe she is right, put in men quick, none of 
us want to be drowned." 

Fortunately this penetrated their besotted 
minds and they put about in time to save the lives 
of all on board, although they landed some dis- 
tance below the usual place. 

A little farther and they would have been 
past all human help. 

One of the boatmen cheerfully acknowledged 
the next day that if it "hadn't been fur that purty 
girl they had a' gone over them falls, shure." 

The other boat had a similar experience ; it 
began to leak profusely before they had gone 
very far and would soon have sunk, had not the 
crew, who doubtless were sober, made all haste to 
land. 

My grandmother has often related to me 
how she clasped her little child to her heart and 
resigned herself to a fate which seemed inevit- 
able ; also of a Mrs. McCarthy, a passenger like- 
wise, becoming greatly excited and alternately 
swearing and praying until the danger was past. 
An inconvenient but amusing feature was the 
soaked condition of the " plunder" and the way 
the shore and shrubbery thereon were decorated 
with "hiyu ictas," as the Chinook has it, hung 
out to dry. Finding it impossible to proceed, 
this detachment returned and took the mountain 
road. 

A tramway built by F. A. Chenoweth, around 
the great falls, afforded transportation for the 

[38] 



DOWN THE COLUMBIA IN '51. 

baggage of the narrowly saved first described. 
There being no accommodations for passengers, 
the party walked the tramroad ; at the terminus 
they unloaded and stayed all night. No " com- 
modious and elegant" steamer awaited them, but 
an old brig, bound for Portland, received them 
and their effects. 

Such variety of adventure had but recently 
crowded upon them that it was almost fearfully 
they re-embarked. A. A. Denny observed to 
Captain Low, "Look here, Low, they say women 
are scarce in Oregon and we had better be care- 
ful of ours." Presumably they were, as both 
survive at the present day. 

From a proud ranger of the dashing main, 
the old brig had come down to be a carrier of salt 
salmon packed in barrels, and plunder of immi- 
grants; as for the luckless passengers, they ac- 
commodated themselves as best they could. 

The small children were tied to the mast to 
keep them from falling overboard, as there were 
no bulwarks. 

Beds were made below on the barrels be- 
fore mentioned and the travel-worn lay down, 
but not to rest ; the mosquitos were a bloodthirsty 
throng and the beds were likened unto a corduroy 
road. - 

One of the women grumbled a little and an 
investigation proved that it was, as her husband 
said, " Nothing but the tea-kettle" wedged in be- 
tween the barrels. 

[39] 






BLAZING THE WAY. 

Another lost a moccasin overboard and hav- 
ing worn out all her shoes on the way, went with 
one stockinged foot until they turned up the 
Willamette River, then went ashore to a farm- 
house where she was so fortunate as to find the 
owner of a new pair of shoes which she bought, 
and was thus able to enter the "city" of Port- 
land in appropriate footgear. 

After such vicissitudes, dangers and anxiety, 
the little company were glad to tarry in the em- 
bryo metropolis for a brief season ; then, having 
heard of fairer shores, the restless pioneers 
moved on. 



[40] 



CHAPTER III 

THE SETTLEMENT AT ALEX 

Midway between Port Townsend and Olym- 
pia, in full view looking west from the city of 
Seattle, is a long tongue of land, washed by the 
sparkling waves of Puget Sound, called AIM 
Point. It helps to make Elliott Bay a beautiful 
land-locked harbor and is regarded with interest 
as being the site of the first settlement by white 
people in King County in what was then the 
Territory of Oregon. AIM is an Indian word 
pronounced with the accent on the first syllable, 
which is al as in altitude ; M is spoken as hy in 
silky. Alki means "by and by." 

It doth truly fret the soul of the old settler 
to see it printed and hear it pronounced Al-ki. 

The first movement toward its occupancy 
was on this wise: A small detachment of the 
advancing column of settlers, D. T. Denny and 
J. N. Low, left Portland on the Willamette, on 
the 10th of September, 1851, with two horses 
carrying provisions and camp outfit. 

These men walked to the Columbia River to 
round up a band of cattle belonging to Low. The 
cattle were ferried over the river at Vancouver 
and from thence driven over the old Hudson Bay 
Company's trail to the mouth of Cowlitz River, 
a tributary of the Columbia, up the Cowlitz to 

[41] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

Warbass Landing and on to Ford's prairie, a 
wide and rich one, where the band were left to 
graze on the luxuriant pasturage. 

On a steep, rocky trail along the Cowlitz 
River, Denny was following along not far behind 
a big, yellow ox that was scrambling up, trying 
vainly to get a firm foothold, when Low, fore- 
seeing calamity, called to him to "Look out!" 
Denny swerved a little from the path and at that 
moment the animal lost its footing and came tum- 
bling past them, rolling over several times until 
it landed on a lower level, breaking off one of its 
horns. Here was a narrow escape although not 
from a wild beast. They could not then stop to 
secure the animal although it was restored to the 
flock some time after. 

From Ford's prairie, although footsore and 
weary, they kept on their way until Olympia was 
reached. It was a long tramp of perhaps two 
hundred fifty miles, the exact distance could not 
be ascertained as the trail was very winding. 

As described by one of our earliest histor- 
ians, Olympia then consisted of about a dozen 
one-story frame cabins, covered with split cedar 
siding, well ventilated and healthy, and perhaps 
twice as many Indian huts near the custom house, 
as Olympia was then the port of entry for Puget 
Sound. 

The last mentioned structure afforded space 
on the ground floor for a store, with a small room 
partitioned off for a postoffice. 

[42] 



THE SETTLEMENT AT ALKI. 

Our two pioneers found here Lee Terry, who 
had been engaged in loading a sailing vessel with 
piles. He fell in with the two persistent pedes- 
trians and thus formed a triumvirate of conquer- 
ors of a new world. The pioneers tarried not in 
the embryo city but pushed on farther down the 
great Inland Sea. 

With Captain Fay and several others tEey 
embarked in an open boat, the Captain, who 
owned the boat, intending to purchase salmon of 
the Indians for the San Francisco market. Fay 
was an old whaling captain. He afterwards 
married Mrs. Alexander, a widow of Whidby 
Island, and lived there until his death. 

The little party spent their first night on the 
untrod shores of Sgwudux, the Indian name of 
the promontory now occupied by West Seattle, 
landing on the afternoon of September 25th, 
1851, and sleeping that night under the protect- 
ing boughs of a giant cedar tree. 

On the 26th, Low, Denny and Terry hired 
two young Indians of Chief Sealth's (Seattle's) 
tillicum (people), who were camped near by, to 
take them up the Duwampsh River in a canoe. 
Safely seated, the paddles dipped and away they 
sped over the dancing waves. The weather was 
fair, the air clear and a magnificent panorama 
spread around them. The whole forest-clad en- 
circling shores of Elliott Bay, untouched by fire 
or ax, the tall evergreens thickly set in a dense 
mass to the water's edge stood on every hand. 

[43] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

The great white dome of Mount Bainier, 14,444 
feet high, before them, toward which they trav- 
eled; behind them, stretched along the western 
horizon, Towiat or Olympics, a grand range of 
snow-capped mountains whose foothills were cov- 
ered with a continuous forest. 

Entering the Duwampsh Biver and ascend- 
ing for several miles they reached the farther 
margin of a prairie where Low and Terry, hav- 
ing landed, set out over an Indian trail through 
the woods, to look at the country, while Denny 
followed on the river with the Indians. On and 
on they went until Denny became anxious and 
fired off his gun but received neither shot nor 
shout in answer. The day waned, it was growing 
dark, and as he returned the narrow deep river 
took on a melancholy aspect, the great forest was 
gloomy with unknown fears, and he was alone 
with strange, wild men whose language was al- 
most unintelligible. Nevertheless, he landed and 
camped with them at a place known afterward 
as the Maple Prairie. 

Morning of the 27th of September saw them 
paddling up the river again in search of the other 
two explorers, whom they met coming down in a 
canoe. They had kept on the trail until an In- 
dian camp was reached at the junction of Black 
and Duwampsh Rivers the night before. All 
returned to Sgwudux, their starting point, to 
sleep under the cedar tree another night. 

On the evening of the 27th a scow appeared 

[44] 



THE SETTLEMENT AT ALKI. 

and stopped near shore where the water was 
quite deep. Two women on board conversed with 
Captain Fay in Chinook, evidently quite proud 
of their knowledge of the trade jargon of the 
Northwest. The scow moved on up Elliott Bay, 
entered Duwampsh River and ascended it to the 
claim of L. M. Collins, where another settlement 
sprang into existence. 

On the 28th the pioneers moved their camp 
to Alki Point or Sma-qua-mox as it was named 
by the Indians. 

Captain Fay returned from down the Sound 
on the forenoon of the 28th. That night, as they 
sat around the campfire, the pioneers talked of 
their projected building and the idea of split stuff 
was advanced, when Captain Fay remarked, 
"Well, I think a log house is better in an Indian 
country." 

"Why, do you think there is any danger 
from the Indians?" he was quickly asked. 

"Well," he replied, with a sly twinkle in his 
eye, "It would keep off the stray bullets when 
they poo mowich" (shoot deer). 

These hints, coupled with subsequent exper- 
iences, awoke the anxiety of D. T. Denny, who 
soon saw that there were swarms of savages to 
the northward. Those near by were friendly, 
but what of those farther away? 

One foggy morning, when the distance was 
veiled in obscurity, the two young white men, 
Lee and David, were startled to see a big canoe 

[45] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

full of wild Indians from away down the Sound 
thrust right out of the dense fog; they landed 
and came ashore ; the chief was a tall, brawny fel- 
low with a black beard. They were very impu- 
dent, crowding on them and trying to get into the 
little brush tent, but Lee Terry stood in the door- 
way leaning, or braced rather, against the tree 
upon which one end of the frail habitation was 
fastened. The white men succeeded in avoiding 
trouble but they felt inwardly rather " shaky" 
and were much relieved when their rude visitors 
departed. These Indians were Skagits. 

The brush shelter referred to was made of 
boughs laid over a pole placed in the crotch of 
another pole at one end, the other end being held 
by a crotch fastened to a tree. In it was placed 
their scanty outfit and supplies, and there they 
slept while the cabin was building. 

A townsite was located and named "New 
York," which no doubt killed the place, exotics 
do not thrive in the Northwest; however, the 
name was after changed to Alki. 

D. T. Denny and Lee Terry were left to 
take care of the "townsite" while J. N. Low re- 
turned with Captain Pay to Olympia and footed 
it over the trail again to the Columbia. He car- 
ried with him a letter to A. A. Denny in Port- 
land, remarkable as the first one penned by D. T. 
Denny on Puget Sound, also in that upon it and 
the account given by Low depended the decision 
of the rest of the party to settle on the shores of 

[46] 



THE SETTLEMENT AT ALKL 

the great Inland Sea. The substance of the letter 
was, "Come as soon as you can; we have found a 
valley that will accommodate one thousand fam- 
ilies," referring to that of the Duwampsh River. 

These two, David T. Denny and Lee Terry, 
proceeded to lay the foundation of the first cabin 
built on Elliott Bay and also the first in King 
County. Their only tools were an ax and a ham- 
mer. The logs were too heavy for the two white 
men to handle by themselves, and after they were 
cut, passing Indians, muscular braves, were 
called on to assist, which they willingly did, Mr. 
Denny giving them bread as a reward, the same 
being an unaccustomed luxury to them. 

Several days after the foundation was laid, 
L. M. Collins and "Nesqually John," an Indian, 
passed by the camp and rising cabin, driving 
oxen along the beach, on their way to the claim 
selected by Collins on the fertile banks of the 
Duwampsh River. 

When D. T. Denny and Lee Terry wrote 
their names on the first page of our history, they 
could not fully realize the import of their every 
act, yet no doubt they were visionary. Sleeping 
in their little brush tent at night, what dreams 
may have visited them! Dreams, perhaps, of 
fleets of white-winged ships with the commerce 
of many nations, of busy cities, of throngs of peo- 
ple. Probably they set about chopping down the 
tall fir trees in a cheerful mood, singing and 
whistling to the astonishment of the pine squir- 

[47] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

rels and screech owls thus rudely disturbed. 
Their camp equipage and arrangements were of 
the simplest and rudest and Mr. Denny relates 
that Lee Terry would not cook so he did the cook- 
ing. He made a " johnny cake" board of willow 
wood to bake bread upon. 

Fish and game were cooked before the camp 
fire. The only cooking vessel was a tin pail. 

One evening Old Duwampsh Curley, whose 
Indian name was Suwhalth, with several others, 
visited them and begged the privilege of camping 
near by. Permission given, the Indians built a 
fire and proceeded to roast a fine, fat duck trans- 
fixed on a sharp stick, placing a large clam shell 
underneath to catch the gravy. When it was 
cooked to their minds, Curley offered a choice cut 
to the white men, who thanked him but declined 
to partake, saying that they had eaten their sup- 
per. 

Old Curley remembered it and in after years 
often reminded his white friend of the incident, 
laughing slyly, "He!He! Boston man halo tikke 
Siwash muck-a-muck" (white man do not like 
Indian's food), knowing perfectly well the rea- 
son they would not accept the proffered dainty. 

J. N. Low had returned to Portland and 
Terry went to Olympia on the return trip of 
Collins' scow, leaving David T. Denny alone with 
"New York," the unfinished cabin and the In- 
dians. For three weeks he was the sole occupant 
and was ill a part of the time. 

[48] 



THE SETTLEMENT AT ALKI. 

Meanwhile, the families left behind had not 
been idle, but having made up their minds that 
the end of their rainbow rested on Puget Sound, 
set sail on the schooner ' ' Exact, ' ' with others who 
intended to settle at various points on the Inland 
Sea, likewise a party of gold hunters bound for 
Queen Charlotte's Island. 

They were one week getting around Cap* 
Flattery and up the Sound as far as AM Point. 
It was a rough introduction to the briny deep, 
as the route covered the most tempestuous por- 
tion of the northwest coast. Well acquainted as 
they were with prairie schooners, a schooner on 
the ocean was another kind of craft and they 
enjoyed ( ?) their first experience of seasickness 
crossing the bar of the Columbia. As may be 
easily imagined, the fittings were not of the most 
luxurious kind and father, mother and the chil- 
dren gathered socially around a washing tub to 
pay their respects to Neptune. 

The gold miners, untouched by mal de mer, 
sang jolly songs and played cards to amuse them- 
selves. Their favorite ditty was the round 
" Three Blind Mice" and they sang also many 
good old campmeeting songs. Poor fellows ! they 
were taken captive by the Indians of Queen Char- 
lotte 's Island and kept in slavery a number of 
years until Victorians sent an expedition for 
their rescue, paid their ransom and they were 
released. 

On a dull November day, the thirteenth of 

3- [49] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

the month, this company landed on Alki Point. 

There were A. A. Denny, his wife, Mary 
Boren Denny, and their three little children; 
Miss Louisa Boren, a younger sister of Mrs. 
Denny; C. D. Boren and his family; J. N. Low, 
Mrs. Low and their four children and Wm.'K 
Bell, Mrs. Sarah Bell and their family. 

John and Sarah Denny with their little 
daughter, Loretta, remained in Oregon for sev- 
eral years and then removed to the Sound. 

On that eventful morning the lonely occu- 
pant of the unfinished cabin was startled by an 
unusual sound, the rattling of an anchor chain, 
that of the " Exact." Not feeling well he had 
the night before made some hot tea, drank it, 
piled both his own and Lee Terry's blankets over 
him and slept long and late. Hearing the noise 
before mentioned he rose hastily, pushed aside 
the boards leaned up for a door and hurried out 
and down to the beach to meet his friends who 
left the schooner in a long boat. It was a gloomy, 
rainy time and the prospect for comfort was so 
poor that the women, except the youngest who 
had no family cares, sat them down on a log on 
the beach and wept bitter tears of discourage- 
ment. Not so with Miss Louisa Boren, whose 
lively curiosity and love of nature led her to ex- 
amine everything she saw, the shells and pebbles 
of the beach, rank shrubbery and rich evergreens 
that covered the bank, all so new and interesting 
to the traveler from the far prairie country. 

[50] 



THE SETTLEMENT AT ALKI. 

But little time could be spent, however, in- 
dulging in the luxury of woe as all were obliged 
to exert themselves to keep thoir effects from be- 
ing carried away by the incoming tide and forgot 
their sorrow in busily carrying their goods upon 
the bank ; food and shelter must be prepared, and 
as ever before they met the difficulties courag- 
eously. 

The roof of the cabin was a little imperfect 
and one of the pioneer children was rendered 
quite uncomfortable by the more or less regular 
drip of the rain upon her and in after years re- 
called it saying that she had forever after a 
prejudice against camping out. 

David T. Denny inadvertantly let fall the 
remark that he wished they had not come. A. A. 
Denny, his brother, came to him, pale with agi- 
tation, asking what he meant, and David at- 
tempted to allay his fears produced by anxiety 
for his helpless family, by saying that the cabin 
was not comfortable in its unfinished state. 

The deeper truth was that the Sound country 
was swarming with Indians. Had the pioneers 
fully realized the risk they ran, nothing would 
have induced them to remain ; their very uncon- 
sciousness afterward proved a safeguard. 

The rainy season was fairly under way and 
suitable shelter was an absolute necessity. 

Soon other houses were built of round fir 
logs and split cedar boards. 

The householders brought quite a supply of 

[51] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

provisions with them on the " Exact"; among 
other things a barrel of dried apples, which 
proved palatable and wholesome. Sea biscuit, 
known as hard-bread, and potato bread made of 
mashed potatoes and baked in the oven were oft 
times substitutes for or adjuncts of the custom- 
ary loaf. 

There was very little game in the vicinity of 
the settlement and at first they depended on the 
native hunters and fishermen who brought tooth- 
some wild ducks and venison, fresh fish and clams 
in abundance. 

One of the pioneers relates that some wily 
rascals betrayed them into eating pieces of game 
which he afterward was convinced were cut from 
a cougar. The Indians who brought it called it 
"mowich" (deer), but the meat was of too light 
a color for either venison or bear, and the corn- 
formation of the leg bones in the pieces resem- 
bled felis rather than cervus. 

But the roasts were savory, it was unseemly 
to make too severe an examination and the food 
supply was not then so certain as to permit in- 
dulgence in an over-nice discrimination. 

The inventive genius of the pioneer women 
found generous exercise in the manufacture of 
new dishes. The variations were rung on fish, 
potatoes and clams in a way to pamper epicures. 
Clams in fry, pie, chowder, soup, stew, boil and 
bake — even pickled clams were found an agree- 
able relish. The great variety of food fishes 

[52] 



THE SETTLEMENT AT ALKL 

from the kingly salmon to the tiny smelt, with 
crabs, oysters, etc., and their many modes of 
preparation, were perpetually tempting to the 
pioneer appetite. 

The question of food was a serious one for 
the first year, as the resources of this land of 
plenty were unknown at first, but the pushing 
pioneer proved a ready and adaptable learner. 

Flour, butter, syrup, sugar, tea and coffee 
were brought at long intervals over great dis- 
tances by sailing vessels. By the time these 
articles reached the settlement their value became 
considerable. 

Game, fish and potatoes were staple articles 
of diet and judging from the stalwart frames 
of the Indians were safe and substantial. 

Trading with the Indians brought about 
some acquaintance with their leading charac- 
teristics. 

On one occasion, the youngest of the white 
women, Louisa Boren, attempted to barter some 
red flannel for a basket of potatoes. 

The basket of "wapatoes" occupied the cen- 
ter of a level spot in front of the cabin, backed 
by a semicircle of perhaps twenty-five Indians. 
A tall, bronze tyee (chief) stood up to wa-wa 
(talk). He wanted so much cloth; stretching 
out his long arms to their utmost extent, fully 
two yards. 

"No," she said, "I will give you so much," 
about one yard. 

[53] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

"Wake, cultus potlatch" (No, that is just 
giving them away) answered the Indian, who 
measured several times and insisted that he 
would not trade for an inch less. Out of patience 
at last, she disdainfully turned her back and 
retired inside the cabin behind a mat screen. No 
amount of coaxing from the savages could induce 
her to return, and the disappointed spectators 
filed off, bearing their "hyas mokoke" (very 
valuable) potatoes with them, no doubt marvel- 
ing at the firmness of the white "slanna" (wo- 
man). 

A more successful deal in potatoes was the 
venture of A. A. Denny and J. N. Low, who trav- 
eled from Alki to Fort Nesqually, in a big canoe 
manned by four Indians and obtained fifty bush- 
els of little, round, red potatoes grown by Indians 
from seed obtained from the "Sking George" 
men. The green hides of beeves were spread in 
the bottom of the canoe and the potatoes piled 
thereon. 

Returning to Alki it was a little rough and 
the vegetables were well moistened with salt 
chuck, as were the passengers also, probably, de- 
ponent saith not. 

It is not difficult for those who have trav- 
eled the Sound in all kinds of weather to realize 
the aptness of the expression of the Chinese cook 
of a camping party who were moving in a large 
canoe; when the waves began to rise, he ex- 
claimed in agitation, "To littlee boat for too 

[54] 



THE SETTLEMENT AT ALKI. 

muehee big waters." It is well to bear in mind 
that the " Sound" is a great inland sea. A ten- 
derfoot's description of the water over which he 
floated, the timorous occupant of a canoe, testi- 
fies that it looked to him to be "Two hundred 
feet deep, as clear as a kitten's eye and as cold 
as death." 

All the different sorts of canoes of which I 
shall speak in another chapter look "wobbly" 
and uncertain, yet the Indians make long voy- 
ages of hundreds of miles by carefully observing 
the wind and tide. 

A large canoe will easily carry ten persons 
and one thousand pounds of baggage. One of 
these commodious travelers, with a load of na- 
tives and their "ictas" (baggage) landed on a 
stormy day at Alki and the occupants spent sev- 
eral hours ashore. While engaged with their 
meal one of them exclaimed, "Nannitch!" (look) 
at the same time pointing at the smoke of the 
campfire curling steadily straight upward. 
Without another word they tumbled themselves 
and belongings aboard and paddled off in silent 
satisfaction. 

The ascending column of smoke was their 
barometer which read "Fair weather, no wind." 

The white people, unacquainted with the 
shores, tides and winds of the great Inland Sea, 
did well to listen to their Indian canoemen; 
sometimes their unwillingness to do so exposed 
them to great danger and even loss of life. 

[55] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

The Indians living on Elliott Bay were 
chiefly the indigenous tribe of D Nvampsh or Du- 
wampsh, changed by white people into "Duwam- 
ish." 

They gave abundant evidence of possessing 
human feeling beneath their rough exterior. 

One of the w r hite women at Alki, prepared 
some food for a sick Indian child which finally 
recovered. The child 's father, ' ' Old Alki John, ' ' 
was a very "hard case," but his heart was tender 
toward his child, and to show his gratitude he 
brought and offered as a present to the kind 
white "slanna" (woman) a bright, new tin pail, 
a very precious thing to the Indian mind. Of 
course she readily accepted his thanks but per- 
suaded him to keep the pail. 

Savages though they were, or so appeared, 
the Indians of Elliott Bay were correctly de- 
scribed in these words : 

"We found a race, though rude and wild, 
Still tender toward friend or child, 
For dark eyes laughed or shone with tears 
As joy or sorrow filled the years. 
Their black-eyed babes the red men kissed 
And captive brothers sorely missed; 
With broken hearts brown mothers wept 
When babes away by death were swept. ' ' 

—Song of the Pioneers. 

But there were amusing as well as pathetic 
experiences. The Indians were like untaught 
children in many things. Their curiosity over* 

[56] 



THE SETTLEMENT AT ALKI. 

came them and their innocent impertinence 
sometimes required reproof. 

In a cabin at AIM one morning, a white 
woman was frying fish. Warming by the fire 
stood "Duwampsh Curley"; the odor of the fish 
was doubtless appetizing; Curley was moved 
with a wish to partake of it and reached out a 
dark and doubtful-looking hand to pick out a 
piece. The white woman had a knife in her hand 
to turn the pieces and raised it to strike the im- 
prudent hand which was quickly and sheepishly 
withdrawn. 

Had he been as haughty and ill-natured as 
some savages the result might have been disas- 
trous, but he took the reproof meekly and mended 
his manners instead of retaliating. 

Now and then the settlers were spectators in 
dramas of Indian romance. 

"Old Alki John" had a wife whose history 
became interesting. For some unknown reason 
she ran away from Puyallup to Alki. Her hus- 
band followed her, armed with a Hudson Bay 
musket and a frame of mind that boded no good. 
While A. A. Denny, D. T. Denny and Alki John 
were standing together on the bank one day Old 
John's observing eye caught sight of a strange 
Indian ascending the bank, carrying his gun 
muzzle foremost, a suggestive position not indi- 
cative of peaceful intentions. "Nannitch" 
(look) he said quietly; the stranger advanced 
boldly, but Old John's calm manner must have 

3a- [57] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

had a soothing effect upon the bloodthirsty sav- 
age, as he concluded to "wa-wa" (talk) a little 
before fighting. 

So the gutturals and polysyllables of the na- 
tive tongue fairly flew about until evidently, as 
Mr. D. T. Denny relates, some sort of compro- 
mise was effected. Not then understanding the 
language, he could not determine just the nature 
of the arrangement, but has always thought it 
was amicably settled by the payment of money by 
"Old Alki John" to her former husband. This 
Indian woman was young and fair, literally so, 
as her skin was very white, she being the whitest 
squaw ever seen among them ; her head was not 
flattened, she was slender and of good figure. 
Possibly she had white blood in her veins; her 
Indian name was "Si-a-ye." 

Being left a widow, she was not left to pine 
alone very long; another claimed her hand and 
she became Mrs. Yeow-de-pump. When this one 
joined his brethren in the happy hunting ground, 
she remained a widow for some time, but is now 
the wife of the Indian Zacuse, mentioned in an- 
other place. 

There were women cabin builders. Each 
married woman was given half the donation 
claim by patent from the government ; improve- 
ment on her part of the claim was therefore 
necessary. 

On a fine, fair morning in the early spring 
of 1852, two women set forth from the settlement 

[58] 



THE SETTLEMENT AT ALKL 

at Alki, to cross Elliott Bay in a fishing canoe, 
with Indians to paddle and a large dog to pro- 
tect them from possible wild animals in the for- 
est, for in that wild time, bears, cougars and 
wolves roamed the shores of Puget Sound. 

Landed on the opposite shore, the present 
site of Seattle, they made their way slowly and 
with difficulty through the dense undergrowth of 
the heavy forest, there being not so much as a 
trail, over a long distance. Arrived at the chosen 
spot, they cut with their own hands some small 
fir logs and laid the foundation of a cabin. While 
thus employed the weather underwent a change 
and on the return was rather threatening. The 
wind and waves were boisterous, the canine pas- 
senger was frightened and uneasy, thus adding to 
the danger. The water washed into the canoe 
and the human occupants suffered no little anx- 
iety until they reached the beach at home. 

One of the conditions of safe travel in a ca- 
noe is a quiet and careful demeanor, the most 
approved plan being to sit down in the bottom 
of the craft and stay there. 

To have a large, heavy animal squirming 
about, getting up and lying down frequently, 
must have tried their nerve severely and it must 
have taken good management to prevent a ser- 
ious catastrophe. The Bell family were camped 
at that time on their claim in a rude shelter of 
Indian boards and mats. 

The handful of white men at Alki spent 

[59] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

their time and energy in getting out piles for the 
San Francisco market. At first they had very 
few appliances for handling the timber. The 
first vessel to load was the brig Leonesa, which 
took a cargo of piles, cut, rolled and hauled by 
hand, as there were no cattle at the settlement. 

There were also no roads and Lee Terry 
went to Puyallup for a yoke of oxen, which he 
drove down on the beach to Alki. Never were 
dumb brutes better appreciated than these use- 
ful creatures. 

But the winter, or rather rainy season, wore 
away ; as spring approached the settlers explored 
the shores of the Sound far and near and it 
became apparent that Alki must wait till "by and 
by," as the eastern shore of Elliott Bay was 
found more desirable and the pioneers prepared 
to move again by locating donation claims on a 
portion of the land now covered by a widespread 
city, which will bring us to the next chapter, 
"The Founding of Seattle and Indian War." 

The following is a brief recapitulation of the 
first days on Puget Sound; in these later years 
we see the rapid and skillful construction of ele- 
gant mansions, charming cottages and stately 
business houses, all in sight of the spot where 
stood the first little cabin of the pioneer. The 
builders of this cabin were D. T. Denny, J. N. 
Low and Lee Terry, assisted by the Indians, the 
only tools, an ax and a hammer, the place Alki 
Point, the time, the fall of 1851. 

[60] 



THE SETTLEMENT AT ALKI. 

They baked their bread before the fire on a 
willow board hewed from a piece of a tree which 
grew near the camp ; the only cooking vessel was 
a tin pail ; the salmon they got of the Indians was 
roasted before the fire on a stick. 

The cabin was unfinished when the famous 
landing was made, November 13th, 1851, because 
J. N. Low returned to Portland, having been on 
the Sound but a few days, then Lee Terry 
boarded Collins' scow on its return trip up Sound 
leaving D. T. Denny alone for about three weeks, 
during most of which time he was ill. This was 
Low's cabin; after the landing of Bell, Boren 
and A. A. Denny and the others of the party, 
among whom were Low and C. C. Terry, a roof 
was put on the unfinished cabin and they next 
built A. A. Denny's and then two cabins of split 
cedar for Bell and Boren and their families. 

When they moved to the east side of Elliott 
Bay, Bell's was the first one built. W. N. Bell 
and D. T. Denny built A. A. Denny's on the east 
side, as he was sick. D. T. Denny had served an 
apprenticeship in cabin building, young as he 
was, nineteen years of age, before he came to 
Puget Sound. 

The first of D. T. Denny's cabins he built 
himself with the aid of three Indians. There 
was not a stick or piece of sawed stuff in it. 

However, by the August following his mar- 
riage, which took place January 23rd, 1853, he 
bought of H. L. Yesler lumber from his sawmill 

[61] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

at about $25.00 per M. to put up a little board 
house, sixteen by twenty feet near the salt water, 
between Madison and Marion streets, Seattle. 

This little home was my birthplace, the first 
child of the first white family established at El- 
liott Bay. Mr. and Mrs. D. T. Denny had been 
threatened by Indians and their cabin robbed, so 
thought it best to move into the settlement. 



[62] 



CHAPTER IV 

F0UNDING OF SEATTLE AND INDIAN WAK. 

The most astonishing change wrought in the 
aspect of nature by the building of a city on 
Puget Sound is not the city itself but the de- 
struction of the primeval forest. 

By the removal of the thick timber the coun- 
try becomes unrecognizable; replaced by thou- 
sands of buildings of brick, wood and stone, 
graded streets, telephone and electric light sys- 
tems, steam, electric and cable railways and all 
the paraphernalia of modern civilization, the con- 
trast is very great. The same amount of energy 
and money expended in a treeless, level country 
would probably have built a city three times as 
large as Seattle. 

In February, 1852, Bell, Boren and the 
Dennys located claims on the east side of Elliott 
Bay. Others followed, but it was not until May, 
1853, that C. D. Boren and A. A. Denny filed the 
first plat of the town, named for the noted chief, 
" Seattle." The second plat was filed shortly 
after by D. S. Maynard. Maynard was a phys- 
ician who did not at first depend on the practice 
of his profession; perhaps the settlers were too 
vigorous to require pills, powders and potions, 
at any rate he proposed to engage in the business 
of packing salmon. 

[63] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

The settlers at AM moved over to their 
claims in the spring of 1852, some of them camp- 
ing until they could build log cabins. 

Finally all were well established and then 
began the hand to hand conflict for possession 
of the ground. The mighty forest must yield to 
fire and the ax ; then from the deep bosom of the 
earth what bounty arose ! 

The Indians proved efficient helpers, guides 
and workers in many ways. One of the pioneers 
had three Indians to help him build his cabin. 

To speak more particularly of the original 
architecture of the country, the cabins, built usu- 
ally of round logs of the Douglas fir, about six 
inches in diameter, were picturesque, substantial 
and well suited to the needs of the pioneer. A 
great feature of the Seattle cabin was the door 
made of thick boards hewed out of the timber as 
there was no sawmill on the bay until H. L. Yes- 
ler built the first steam saw mill erected on the 
Sound. This substantial door was cut across in 
the middle with a diagonal joint; the lower half 
was secured by a stout wooden pin, in order that 
the upper half might be opened and the "wa- 
wa" (talk) proceed with the native visitor, who 
might or might not be friendly, while he stood on 
the outside of the door and looked in with eager 
curiosity, on the strange ways of the " Bostons." 

The style of these log cabins was certainly 
admirable, adapted as they were to the situation 
of the settler. They were inexpensive as the; 

[64] 



FOUNDING OF SEATTLE— INDIAN WAR. 

material was plentiful and near at hand, and 
required only energy and muscle to construct 
them; there were no plumber's, gas or electric 
light bills coming in every month, no taxes for 
improvements and a man could build a lean-to 
or hay-shed without a building permit. The in- 
teriors were generally neat, tasteful and home- 
like, made so by the versatile pioneer women who 
occupied them. 

These primitive habitations were necessarily 
scattered as it was imperative that they should 
be placed so as to perfect the titles of the dona- 
tion claims. Sometimes two settlers were able 
to live near each other when they held adjoining 
claims, others were obliged to live several miles 
away from the main settlement and far from a 
neighbor, in lonely, unprotected places. 

What thoughts of the homes and friends 
they had left many weary leagues behind, visited 
these lonely cabin dwellers ! 

The husband was engaged in clearing, slash- 
ing and burning log heaps, cutting timber, hunt- 
ing for game to supply the larder, or away on 
some errand to the solitary neighbor's or distant 
settlement. Often, during the livelong day the 
wife was alone, occupied with domestic toil, all 
of which had to be performed by one pair of 
hands, with only primitive and rude appliances ; 
but there were no incompetent servants to annoy, 
social obligations were few, fashion was remote 
and its tyranny unknown, in short, many dis- 

[65] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

agreeable things were lacking. The sense of iso- 
lation was intensified by frequently recurring in- 
cidents in which the dangers of pioneer life be- 
came manifest. The dark, mysterious forest 
might send forth from its depths at any moment 
the menace of savage beast or relentless man. 

The big, grey, timber wolf still roamed the 
woods, although it soon disappeared before the 
oncoming wave of invading settlers. Generally 
quite shy, they required some unusual attraction 
to induce them to display their voices. 

On a dark winter night in 1853, the lonely 
cabin of D. T. and Louisa Denny was visited by 
a pair of these voracious beasts, met to discuss 
the remains of a cow, belonging to W. N. Bell, 
which had stuck fast among some tree roots and 
died in the edge of the clearing. How they did 
snarl and howl, making the woods and waters re- 
sound with their cries as they greedily devoured 
the carcass. The pioneer couple who occupied 
the cabin entered no objection and were very 
glad of the protection of the solid walls of their 
primitive domicile. The next day, Mr. Denny, 
with dog and gun, went out to hunt them but they 
had departed to some remote region. 

On another occasion the young wife lay sick 
and alone in the cabin above mentioned and a 
good neighbor, Mrs. Sarah Bell, from her home 
a mile away, came to see her, bringing some wild 
*pheasant' eggs the men had found while cut- 






* Ruffed grouse. [66] 



FOUNDING OF SEATTLE— INDIAN WAR. 

ting spars. While the women chatted, an Indian 
came and stood idly looking in over the half -door 
and his companion lurked in the brush near by. 

John Kanem, a brother of the chief, Pat 
Kanem, afterward told the occupants of the 
cabin that these Indians had divulged their in- 
tention of murdering them in order to rob their 
dwelling, but abandoned the project, giving as a 
reason that a "haluimi kloochman" (another or 
unknown woman) was there and the man was 
away. 

Surely a kind Providence watched over these 
unprotected ones that they might in after years 
fulfill their destiny. 

During the summer of 1855, before the In- 
dian war, Mr. and Mrs. D. T. Denny were living 
in a log cabin in the swale, an opening in the 
midst of a heavy forest, on their donation claim, 
to which they had moved from their first cabin on 
Elliott Bay. 

Dr. Choush, an Indian medicine man, came 
along one day in a state of ill-suppressed fury. 
He had just returned from a Government " pot- 
latch" at the Tulalip agency. In relating how 
they were cheated he said that the Indians were 
presented with strips of blankets which had 
been torn into narrow pieces about six or eight 
inches wide, and a little bit of thread and a needle 
or two. The Indians thereupon traded among 
themselves and pieced the strips together. 

He was naturally angry and said menacing- 

[67] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

ly that the white people were few, their doors 
were thin and the Indians could easily break 
them in and kill all the " Bostons." 

All this could not have been very reassuring 
to the inmates of the cabin; however they were 
uniformly kind to the natives and had many 
friends among them. 

Just before the outbreak a troop of Indians 
visited this cabin and their bearing was so 
haughty that Mrs. Denny felt very anxious. 
When they demanded "Klosh mika potlatch wap- 
atoes," (Give us some potatoes) she hurried out 
herself to dig them as quickly as possible that 
they might have no excuse for displeasure, and 
was much relieved when they took their depart- 
ure. One Indian remained behind a long time 
but talked very little. It is supposed that he 
thought of warning them of the intended attack 
on the white settlement but was afraid to do so 
because of the enmity against him that might 
follow among his own people. 

Gov. Stevens had made treaties with the : 
Indians to extinguish their title to the lands of 
the Territory. Some were dissatisfied and 
stirred up the others against the white usurpers. 
This was perfectly natural ; almost any American 
of whatever color resents usurpation. 

Time would fail to recount the injuries and 
indignities heaped upon the Indians by the evil- 
minded among the whites, who could scarcely 

[68] 



FOUNDING OP SEATTLE— INDIAN WAR. 

have been better than the same class among the 
natives they sought to displace. 

As subsequently appeared, there was a dif- 
ference of opinion among the natives as to the 
desirability of white settlements in their do- 
main: Leschi, Coquilton, Owhi, Kitsap, Kam- 
iakin and Kanasket were determined against 
them, while Sealth (Seattle) and Pat Kanem 
were peaceable and friendly. 

The former, shrewd chieftains, well knew 
that the white people coveted their good lands. 

One night before the war, a passing white 
man, David T. Denny, heard Indians talking to- 
gether in i one of their 'rancherees" or large 
houses; they were telling how the white men 
knew that the lands belonging to Tseiyuse and 
Ohwi, two great Yakima chiefs, were very de- 
sirable. 

Cupidity, race prejudice and cruelty caused 
numberless injuries and indignities against the 
Indians. In spite of all, there were those among 
them who proved the faithful friends of the white 
race. 

Hu-hu-bate-sute or " Salmon Bay Curley," a 
tall, hawk-nosed, eagle-eyed Indian with very 
curly hair, was a staunch friend of the "Bos- 
tons." 

Thlid Kanem or " Cut-Hand" sent Lake 
John Che-shi-a-hud to Shilshole to inform this 
"Curley," who lived there, of the intended at- 
tack on Seattle. Curley told Ira W. Utter, a 

[69] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

white settler on Shilshole or Salmon Bay, and 
brought him up to Seattle in his own canoe dur- 
ing the night. 

"Duwampsh Curley" or Su-whalth, appears 
in a very unfavorable light in Bancroft's history. 
My authority, who speaks the native tongue flu- 
ently and was a volunteer in active duty on the 
day of the battle of Seattle, says it was not Cur- 
ley who disported himself in the manner therein 
described. I find this refreshing note pencilled 
on the margin: "Now this is all a lie about 
Curley." 

Curley rendered valuable assistance on 
the day of the fight. D. T. Denny saw him go on 
a mission down the bay at the request of the 
navy officers, to ascertain the position of the 
hostiles in the north part of the town. 

"Old Mose" or Show-halthlk brought word 
to Seattle of the approach of the hostile bands in 
January, 1856. 

But I seem to anticipate and hasten to refer 
again to the daily life of the Pounders of Seattle. 

Trade here, as at Alki, consisted in cutting 
piles, spars and timber to load vessels for San 
Francisco. These ships brought food supplies 
and merchandise, the latter often consisting of 
goods, calicoes, blankets, shawls and tinware, 
suitable for barter with the Indians to whom the 
settlers still looked for a number of articles of 
food. 

Bread being the staff of life to the white 

[70] 



POUNDING OP SEATTLE— INDIAN WAR. 

man, the supply of flour was a matter of im- 
portance. In the winter of 1852 this commodity 
became so scarce, from the long delay of ships 
carrying it, that the price became quite fancy, 
reaching forty dollars per barrel. Pork like- 
wise became a costly luxury ; A. A. Denny relates 
that he paid ninety dollars for two barrels and 
when by an untoward fate one of the barrels of 
the precious meat was lost it was regarded as a 
positive calamity. 

Left on the beach out of reach of high tide, 
it was supposed to be safe, but during the night 
it was carried away by the waves that swept the 
banks under the high wind. At the next low tide 
which came also at night, the whole settlement 
turned out and searched the beach, with pitch- 
wood torches, from the head of the Bay to 
Smith's Cove, but found no trace of the missing 
barrel of pork. 

An extenuating circumstance was the fact 
that a large salmon might be purchased for a 
brass button, while red flannel, beads, knives and 
other "ictas" (things) were legal tender for po- 
tatoes, venison, berries and clams. 

Domestic animals were few; I do not know 
if there was a sheep, pig or cow, and but few 
chickens, on Elliott Bay at the beginning of the 
year 1852. 

As late as 1859, Charles Prosch relates that 
he paid one dollar and a half for a dozen eggs and 
the same price for a pound of butter. 

[71] , 1 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

There were no roads, only a few trails 
through the forest; a common mode of travel 
was to follow the beach, the traveler having to 
be especially mindful of the tide as the banks 
are so abrupt in many places that at high tide 
the shore is impassable. The Indian canoe was 
pressed into service whenever possible. 

Very gradually ways through the forest were 
tunneled out and made passable, by cutting the 
trees and grubbing the larger stumps, but small 
obstructions were disdained and anything that 
would escape a wagon-bed was given peaceable 
possession. 

Of the original settlement, J. N. Low and 
family remained at Alki. 

D. T. and Louisa Denny, who were married 
at the cabin home of A. A. Denny, January 23rd, 
1853, moved themselves and few effects in a 
canoe to their cabin on the front of their dona- 
tion claim, the habitation standing on the spot 
for many years occupied by numerous "sweet- 
brier" bushes, grown from seeds planted by the 
first bride of Seattle. 

Stern realities confronted them; a part of 
the time they were out of flour and had no bread 
for days ; they bought fish of the Indians, which, 
together with game from the forest, brought 
down by the rifle of the pioneer, made existence 
possible. 

And then, too, the pioneer housewife soon 
became a shrewd searcher for indigenous articles 

[72] 



POUNDING OF SEATTLE— INDIAN WAR. 

of food. Among these were nettle greens gath- 
ered in the woods. 

In their season the native berries were very 
acceptable; the salmon-berry ripening early in 
June; dewberries and red and black huckleber- 
ries were plentiful in July and August. 

The first meal partaken of in this cabin con- 
sisted of salt meat from a ship's stores and po- 
tatoes. They afterward learned to make a whole 
meal of a medium sized salmon with potatoes', 
the fragments remaining not worth mention. 

The funiture of their cabin was meager, a 
few chairs from a ship, a bedstead made of fir 
poles and a ship's stove were the principle ar- 
ticles. One window without glass but closed by 
a wooden shutter with the open upper half -door 
served to light it in the daytime, while the glim- 
mer of a dog-fish-oil lamp was the illumination 
at night. 

The stock consisted of a single pair of chick- 
ens, a wedding present from D. S. Maynard. The 
hen set under the door-step and brought out a 
fine brood of chicks. The rooster soon took 
charge of them, scratched, called and led them 
about in the most motherly manner, while the 
hen, apparently realizing the fact that she was 
literally a rara avis prepared to bring out an- 
other brood. 

Mr. and Mrs. D. T. Denny while visiting 
their friends at Alki on one occasion witnessed a 
startling scene. 

[73] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

An Indian had come to trade, "Old AIM 
John," and a misunderstanding appears to have 
arisen about the price of a sack of flour. The 
women, seated chatting at one end of the cabin, 
were chilled with horror to see the white man, 
his face pale with anger and excitement, raise an 
ax as if to strike the Indian, who had a large 
knife, such as many of them wore suspended 
from the wrist by a cord; the latter, a tall and 
brawny fellow, regarded him with a threatening 
look. 

Fortunately no blow was struck and the 
white man gradually lowered the ax and dropped 
it on the floor. The Indian quietly departed, 
much to their relief, as a single blow would likely 
have resulted in a bloody affray and the mass- 
acre of all the white people. 

At that time there were neither jails, nor 
courthouse, no churches, but one saw mill, no 
steamboats, railways or street cars, not even a 
rod of wagon road in King County, indeed all 
the conveniences of modern civilization were 
wanting. 

There were famous, historic buldings erect- 
ed and occupied, other than the cabin homes ; the 
most notable of these was Port Decatur. 

The commodious blockhouse so named after 
the good sloop-of-war that rescued the town of 
Seattle from the hostiles, stood on an eminence 
at the end of Cherry Street overlooking the Bay. 

[74] 



POUNDING OF SEATTLE— INDIAN WAR. 

At this time there were about three hundred 
white inhabitants. 

The hewn timbers of this fort were cut by 
D. T. Denny and two others, on the front of the 
donation claim, and hauled out on the beach 
ready to load a ship for San Francisco, but ulti- 
mately served a very different purpose from the 
one first intended. 

The mutterings of discontent among the In- 
dians portended war and the settlers made haste 
to prepare a place of refuge. The timbers were 
dragged up the hill by oxen and many willing 
hands promptly put them in place ; hewn to the 
line, the joints were close and a good shingle 
roof covered the building, to which were added 
two bastions of sawed stuff from Yesler's mill. 
D. T. Denny remembers the winter was a mild 
one, and men went about without coats, other- 
wise "in their shirtsleeves." While they were 
building the fort, the U. S. Sloop-of-war Decatur, 
sailed up the Bay with a fair breeze, came to 
anchor almost directly opposite, swung around 
and fired off the guns, sixteen thirty-two-pound- 
ers, making thunderous reverberations far and 
wide, a sweet sound to the settlers. 

Several of the too confident ones laughed 
and scoffed at the need of a fort while peace 
seemed secure. One of these doubters was told 
by Mrs. Louisa Denny that the people laughed 
at Noah when he built the ark, and it transpired 
that a party was obliged to bring this objector 

[75] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

and his family into the fort from their claim two 
miles away, after dark of the night before the 
battle. 

A few nights before the attack, a false alarm 
sent several settlers out in fluttering nightrobes, 
cold, moonlight and frosty though it was. Mr. 
Hillory Butler and his wife, Mrs. McConaha and 
her children calling to the former "Wait for 
me. " It is needless to say that Mr. Butler waited 
for nobody until he got inside the fort. 

The excitement was caused by the shooting 
of Jack Drew, a deserter from the Decatur. He 
was instantly killed by a boy of fifteen, alone with 
his sister whom he thus bravely defended. This 
was Milton Holgate and the weapon a shotgun, 
the charge of which took effect in the wanderer's 
face. As the report rang out through the still 
night air it created a panic throughout the set- 
tlement. 

A family living on the eastern outskirts of 
the village at the foot of a hill were driven in and 
their house burned. The men had been engaged 
in tanning leather and had quite a number of 
hides on hand that must have enriched the 
flames. The owners had ridiculed the idea that 
there was danger of an Indian attack and would 
not assist in building the fort, scoffed at the man- 
of-war in the harbor and were generally contemp- 
tuous of the whole proceeding. However, when 
fired on by the Indians they fled precipitately to 
the fort they had scorned. One of them sank 

[76] 



FOUNDING OP SEATTLE— INDIAN WAR. 

down, bareheaded, breathless and panting on a 
block of wood inside the fort in an exceedingly 
subdued frame of mind to the great amusement 
of the soldiery, both Captain and men. 

The first decided move of the hostiles was 
the attack on the White River settlers, burning, 
killing and destroying as is the wont of a savage 
foe. 

Joe Lake, a somewhat eccentric character, 
had one of the hairbreadth escapes fall to his 
share of the terrible times. He was slightly 
wounded in an attack on the Cox home on White 
River. Joe was standing in the open door when 
an Indian not far away from the cabin, seeing 
him, held his ramrod on the ground for a rest, 
placed his gun across it and fired at Joe; the 
bullet penetrated the clothing and just grazed 
his shoulder. A man inside the cabin reached 
up for a gun which hung over the door ; the In- 
dian saw the movement and guessing its purpose 
made haste to depart. 

The occupants of the Cox residence hurried- 
ly gathered themselves and indispensable ef- 
fects, and embarking in a canoe, with energetic 
paddling, aided by the current, sped swiftly down 
the river into the Bay and safely reached the 
fort. 

Beside the Decatur, a solitary sailing ves- 
sel, the Bark Brontes, was anchored in the har- 
bor. 

Those to engage in the battle were the de- 

[77] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

tachments of men from the Decatur, under Lieu- 
tenants Drake, Hughes, Morris and Phelps, nine- 
ty-six men and eighteen marines, leaving a small 
number on board. 

A volunteer three months' company of set- 
tlers of whom C. C. Hewitt was Captain, Wm. 
Gilliam, First Lieutenant, D. T. Denny, Corporal 
and Eobert Olliver, Sergeant, aided in the de- 
fense. 

A number of the settlers had received friend- 
ly warning and were expecting the attack, some 
having made as many as three removals from 
their claims, each time approaching nearer to the 
fort. 

Mr. and Mrs. D. T. Denny forsook their 
cabin in the wilderness and spent an anxious 
night at the home of W. ST. Bell, which was a mile 
or more from the settlement, and the following 
day moved in to occupy a house near A. A. Den- 
ny's, where the Frye block now stands. From 
thence they moved again to a little frame house 
near the fort. 

Yoke-Yakeman, an Indian who had worked 
for A., _ A. .Denny and was nicknamed " Denny 
Jim," played an important part as a spy in a 
council of the hostiles and gave the warning to 
Captain Gansevoort of the Decatur of the im- 
pending battle. 

Mr. and Mrs. Blaine, the pioneer M. E. min- 
ister, and his wife, who was the first school teach- 
er of Seattle, went on board the man-of-war on 

[78] 



FOUNDING OP SEATTLE— INDIAN WAR. 

the 22nd of January, 1856, with their infant son, 
from their home situated where the Boston Block 
now stands. 

On the morning of the 26th, while not yet 
arisen, she was urging her husband to get a boat 
so that she might go ashore ; he demurred, par- 
leying, with his hand upon the doorknob. Just 
then they heard the following dialogue : 

Mr. H. L. Tesler (who had come aboard in 
some haste) : " Captain, a klootchman says there 
are lots of Indians back of Tom Pepper's house." 

Captain Gansevoort (who was lying in his 
berth) : " John bring me my boots." 

H. L. Yesler: " Never mind Captain, just 
send the lieutenant with the howitzer." 

Captain G. : " No sir ! Where my men go, I 
go to. John bring me my boots. ' ' 

And thus the ball opened ; a shell was drop- 
ped in the neighborhood of "Tom Pepper's 
house" with the effect to arouse the whole horde 
of savages, perhaps a thousand, gathered in the 
woods back of the town. 

Unearthly yells of Indians and brisk firing 
of musketry followed; the battle raged until 
noon, when there was a lull. 

A volume of personal experiences might be 
written, but I will give here but a few incidents. 
To a number of the settlers who were about 
breakfasting, it was a time of breathless terror ; 
they must flee for their lives to the fort. The 
bullets from unseen foes whistled over their 

[79] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

heads and the distance traversed to the fort was 
the longest journey of their lives. It was re- 
membered afterward that some very amusing 
things took place in the midst of fright and 
flight. One man, rising late and not fully attired, 
donned his wife's red flannel petticoat instead of 
the bifurcated garment that usually graced his 
limbs. The " pants" were not handy and the 
petticoat was put on in a trice. 

Louisa Boren Denny, my mother, was alone 
with her child about two years old, in the little 
frame house, a short distance from the fort. She 
was engaged in baking biscuits when hearing the 
shots and yells of the Indians she looked out to 
see the marines from the Decatur swarming up 
out of their boats onto Yesler's wharf and con- 
cluded it was best to retire in good order. With 
provident foresight she snatched the pan from 
the oven and turned the biscuits into her apron, 
picked up the child, Emily Inez Denny, with her 
free hand and hurried out, leaving the premises 
to their fate. Fortunately her husband, David 
T. Denny, who had been standing guard, met her 
in the midst of the flying bullets and assisted her, 
speedily, into the friendly fort. 

A terrible day it was for all those who were 
called upon to endure the anxiety and suspense 
that hovered within those walls ; perhaps the mo- 
ment that tried them most was when the report 
was circulated that all would be burned alive as 
the Indians would shoot arrows carrying fire on 

[80] 



FOUNDING OF SEATTLE— INDIAN WAR. 

the roof of cedar shingles or heap combustibles 
against the walls near the ground and thus set 
fire to the building. To prevent the latter ma- 
neuver, the walls were banked with earth all 
around. 

But the Indians kept at a respectful dis- 
tance, the rifle-balls and shells were not to their 
taste and it is not their way to fight in the open. 

A tragic incident was the death of Milton 
Holgate. Francis McNatt, a tall man, stood in 
the door of the fort with one hand up on the 
frame and Jim Broad beside him; Milton Hol- 
gate stood a little back of McNatt, and the bul- 
let from a savage's gun passed either over or 
under the uplifted arm of McNatt, striking the 
boy between the eyes. 

Quite a number of women and children were 
taken on board the two ships in the harbor, but 
my mother remained in the fort. 

The battle was again renewed and fiercely 
fought in the afternoon. 

Toward evening the Indians prepared to 
burn the town, but a brisk dropping of shells 
from the big guns of the Decatur dispersed them 
and they departed for cooler regions, burning 
houses on the outskirts of the settlement as they 
retreated toward the Duwamish River. 

Leschi, the leader, threatened to return in a 
month with his bands and annihilate the place. 
In view of other possible attacks, a second block 

[81] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

house was built and the forest side of the town 
barricaded. 

Fort Decatur was a two-story building, for- 
ty feet square ; the upper story was partitioned 
off into small rooms, where a half dozen or mor^. 
families lived until it was safe or convenient to 
return to their distant homes. Each had a stove 
on which to cook, and water was carried from a 
well inside the stockade. 

There were a number of children thus shut 
in, who enlivened the grim walls with their shift- 
ing shadows, awakened mirth by their playful- 
ness or touched the hearts of their elders by their 
pathos. 

Like a ray of sunlight in a gloomy interior 
was little Sam Neely, a great pet, a sociable, af- 
fectionate little fellow, visiting about from cor- 
ner to corner, always sure of attention and a 
kindly welcome. The marines from the man-of- 
war spoiled him without stint. One of the Ser- 
geants gave his mother a half worn uniform, 
which she skilfully remade, gold braid, buttons 
and all, for little Sam. How proud he was, with 
everybody calling him the " Little Sergeant"; 
whenever he approached a loquacious group, 
some one was sure to say, "Well, Sergeant, 
what's the news?" 

When the day came for the Neely family to 
move out of the fort, his mother was very busy 
and meals uncertain. 

He finally appealed to a friend, who had be- 

[82] 



FOUNDING OF SEATTLE— INDIAN WAR. 

fore proven herself capable of sympathy, for 
something to appease his gnawing hunger, and 
she promptly gave him a bowl of bread and milk. 
Down he sat and ate with much relish; as he 
drained the last drop he observed, "I was just so 
hungry, I didn't know how hungry I was." 

Poor little Sam was drowned in the Du- 
wampsh River the same year, and buried on its 
banks. 

Laura Bell, a little girl of perhaps ten years, 
during her stay in the fort exhibited the courage 
and constancy characterizing even the children in 
those troublous times. 

She did a great part of the work for the fam- 
ily, cared for her younger sisters, prepared and 
carried food to her sick mother who was heard to 
say with tender gratitude, "Your dear little 
hands have brought me almost everything I have 
had." Both have passed into the Beyond; one 
who remembers Laura well says she was a beau- 
tiful, bright, rosy cheeked child, pleasant to look 
upon. 

In unconscious childhood I was carried into 
Fort Decatur, on the morning of the battle, yet 
by careful investigation it has been satisfactorily 
proven that one lasting impression was recorded 
upon the palimpsest of my immature mind. 

A shot was accidentally fired from a gun in- 
side the fort, by which a palef aced, dark haired 
lady narrowly escaped death. The bullet passed 
through a loop of her hair, below the ear, just be- 

[83] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

side the white neck. Her hair was dressed in an 
old fashioned way, parted in the middle on the 
forehead and smoothly brushed down over the 
ears, divided and twisted on each side and the two 
ropes of hair coiled together at the back of the 
head. Like a flashlight photograph, her face is 
imprinted on my memory, nothing before or after 
for sometime can I claim to recall. 

A daughter, the second child of David T. and 
Louisa Denny, was born in Fort Decatur on the 
sixteenth of March, 1856, who lived to mature 
into a gifted and gracious womanhood and passed 
away from earth in Christian faith and hope on 
January seventeenth, 1889. 

Other children who remained in the fort for 
varying periods, were those of the Jones, Kirk- 
land, Lewis, McConaha and Boren families. 

Of the number of settlers who occupied the 
fort on the day of the battle, the following are 
nearly, if not quite all, the families: Wm. N. 
Bell, Mrs. Bell and several young children ; John 
Buckley and Mrs. Buckley ; D. A. Neely and fam- 
ily, one of whom was little Sam Neely spoken of 
elsewhere; Mr. and Mrs. Hillory Butler, grate- 
fully remembered as the best people in the settle- 
ment to visit and help the sick ; the Holgates, Mrs. 
and Miss Holgate, Lemuel Holgate, and Milton 
Holgate who was killed; Timothy Grow, B. L. 
Johns and six children, whose mother died on the 
way to Puget Sound; Joe Lake, the Kirkland 

[84] 



FOUNDING OF SEATTLE— INDIAN WAE. 

family, father and several daughters ; Wm, Cox 
and family and D. T. Denny and family. 

During the Indian war, H. L. Tesler took 
Yoke-Yakeman, or " Denny Jim," the friendly 
Indian before mentioned, with him across Lake 
Washington to the hiding place of the Sam- 
mumpsh Indians who were aiding the hostiles. 
Yesler conferred with them and succeeded in per- 
suading the Indians to come out of their retreat 
and go across the Sound. 

While returning, Denny Jim met with an ac- 
cident which resulted fatally. Intending to shoot 
some ducks, he drew his shotgun toward him, 
muzzle first, and discharged it, the load entering 
his arm, making a flesh wound. Through lack of 
skill, perhaps, in treating it, he died from the 
effects, in Curley's house situated on the slope in 
front of Fort Decatur toward the Bay. 

This Indian and the service he rendered 
should not be forgotten ; the same may be appro- 
priately said of the faithful Spokane of whom the 
following account has been given by eye wit- 
nesses : 

" At the attack of the Cascades of the Colum- 
bia, on the 26th of March, 1856, the white people 
took refuge in Bradford's store, a log structure 
near the river. Having burned a number of other 
buildings, the Indians, Yakimas and Klikitats, 
attempted to fire the store also; as fast as the 
shingles were ignited by burning missiles in the 
hands of the Indians, the first was put out by 

[85] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

pouring brine from a pork barrel, with a tin cup, 
on the incipient blazes, not being able to get any 
water. 

The occupants, some wounded, suffered for 
fresh water, haying only some ale and whiskey. 
They hoped to get to the river at night, but the 
Indians illuminated the scene by burning govern- 
ment property and a warehouse. 

James Sinclair, who was shot and instantly 
killed early in the fight, had brought a Spokane 
Indian with him. This Indian volunteered to get 
water for the suffering inmates. A slide used in 
loading boats was the only chance and he stripped 
off his clothing, slid down to the river and re- 
turned with a bucket of water. This was made 
to last until the 28th, when, the enemy remaining 
quiet the Spokane repeated the daring perform- 
ance of going down the slide and returning with a 
pailful of water, with great expedition, until he 
had filled two barrels, a feat deserving more than 
passing mention." 

On Elliott Bay, the cabins of the farther 
away settlers had gone up in smoke, fired by the 
hostile Indians. Some were deserted and new 
ones built far away from the Sound in the depths 
of the forest. It required great courage to return 
to their abandoned homes from the security of the 
fort, yet doubtless the settlers were glad to be at 
liberty after their enforced confinement. One 
pioneer woman says it was easy to see Indians 

[86] 






FOUNDING OF SEATTLE— INDIAN WAR. 

among the stumps and trees around their cabin 
after the war. 

Many remained in the settlement, others left 
the country for safer regions, while a few culti- 
vated land under volunteer military guard in or- 
der to provide the settlement with vegetables. 

The Yesler mill cookhouse, a log structure, 
was made historical in those days. The hungry 
soldiers after a night watch were fed there and 
rushed therefrom to the battle. 

While there was no church, hotel, storehouse, 
courthouse or jail it was all these by turns. No 
doubt those who were sheltered within its walls, 
ran the whole gamut of human emotion and ex- 
perience. 

In the Puget Sound Weekly of July 30th, 
1866, published in Seattle, it was thus described : 

" There was nothing about this cook house 
very peculiar, except the interest with which old 
memories had invested it. It was simply a dingy- 
looking hewed log building, about twenty-five feet 
square, a little more than one story high, with a 
shed addition in the rear, and to strangers and 
newcomers was rather an eye-sore and nuisance 
in the place — standing as it did in the business 
part of the town, among the more pretentious 
buildings of modern construction, like a quaint 
octogenarian, among a band of dandyish sprigs 
of young America. To old settlers, however, its 
weather-worn roof and smoke-blackened walls, 
inside and out, were vastly interesting from long 

[87] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

familiarity, and many pleasant and perhaps a 
few unpleasant recollections were connected with 
its early history, which we might make subjects 
of a small volume of great interest, had we time 
to indite it. Suffice it to say, however, that this 
old cook house was one among the first buildings 
erected in Seattle ; was built for the use of the saw 
mill many years since, and though designed es- 
pecially for a cook house, has been used for al- 
most every conceivable purpose for which a log 
cabin, in a new and wild country, may be em- 
ployed. 

"For many years the only place for one hun- 
dred miles or more along the eastern shores of 
Puget Sound, where the pioneer settlers could be 
hospitably entertained by white men and get a 
square meal, was Yesler's cook house in Seattle, 
and whether he had money or not, no man ever 
found the latch string of the cook house drawn in, 
or went away hungry from the little cabin door ; 
and many an old Puget Sounder remembers the 
happy hours, jolly nights, strange encounters and 
wild scenes he has enjoyed around the broad fire- 
place and hospitable board of Yesler's cook 
house. 

"During the Indian war this building was 
the general rendezvous of the volunteers engaged 
in defending the thinly populated country against 
the depredations of the savages, and was also the 
resort of the navy officers on the same duty on the 
Sound. Judge Lander's office was held in one 

[88] 



POUNDING OF SEATTLE— INDIAN WAR. 

corner of the dining room ; the auditor's office, for 
some time, was kept under the same roof, and, 
indeed, it may be said to have been used for more 
purposes than any other building on the Pacific 
coast. It was the general depository from which 
law and justice were dispensed throughout a 
large scope of surrounding country. It has, at 
different times, served for town hall, courthouse, 
jail, military headquarters, storehouse, hotel and 
church; and in the early years of its history 
served all these purposes at once. It was the 
place of holding elections, and political parties of 
all sorts held their meetings in it, and quarreled 
and made friends again, and ate, drank, laughed, 
sung, wept, and slept under the same hospitable 
roof. If there was to be a public gathering of the 
settlers of any kind and for any purpose, no one 
ever asked where the place of meeting was to be, 
for all knew it was to be at the cook house. 

"The first sermon, by a Protestant, in King 
county was preached by the Rev. Mr. Close in the 
old cook house. The first lawsuit — which was the 
trial of the mate of the Franklin Adams, for sell- 
ing ship's stores and appropriating the proceeds 
— came off, of course, in the old cook house. Jus- 
tice Maynard presided at this trial, and the ac- 
cused was discharged from the old cook house 
with the wholesome advice that in future he 
should be careful to make a correct return of all 
his private sales of other people's property. 

"Who, then, knowing the full history of this 

4a- [89] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

famous old relic of early times, can wonder that 
it has so long been suffered to stand and moulder, 
unused, in the midst of the more gaudy surround- 
ings of a later civilization ? And who can think 
it strange, when, at last, its old smoky walls were 
compelled to yield to the pressure of progression, 
and be tumbled heedlessly into the street, that the 
old settler looked sorrowfully upon the vandal 
desctruction, and silently dropped a tear over its 
leveled ruins. Peace to the ashes of the old cook 
house." 

While the pioneers lingered in the settle- 
ment, they enjoyed the luxury of living in houses 
of sawed lumber. Time has worked out his re- 
venges until what was then disesteemed is much 
admired now. A substantial and picturesque 
lodge of logs, furnished with modern contrivan- 
ces is now regarded as quite desirable, for sum- 
mer occupation at least. 

The struggle of the Indians to regain their 
domain resulted in many sanguinary conflicts. 
The bloody wave of war ran hither and yon until 
spent and the doom of the passing race was 
sealed. 

Seattle and the whole Puget Sound region 
were set back ten years in development. Toil- 
some years they were that stretched before the 
pioneers. They and their families were obliged 
to do whatever they could to obtain a livelihood ; 
they were neither ashamed nor afraid of honest 

[90] 



POUNDING OF SEATTLE— INDIAN WAR. 

work and doubtless enjoyed the reward of a good 
conscience and vigorous health. 

Life held many pleasures and much freedom 
from modern fret besides. As one of them ob- 
served, "We were happy then, in our log cabin 
homes." 

Long after the incidents herein related oc- 
curred, one of the survivors of the White River 
massacre wrote the following letter, which was 
published in a local paper : 

"Burgh Hill, Ohio, Sept. 8. — I notice oc- 
casionally a pioneer sketch in the Post-Intelli- 
gencer relating some incident in the war of 1855- 
56. I have a vivid recollection of this, being a 
member of one of the families concerned therein. 
I remember distinctly the attack upon the fort at 
Seattle in January, 1856. Though a child, the 
murdering of my mother and step-father by the 
Indians a few weeks before made such an im- 
pression upon my mind that I was terror-stricken 
at the thought of another massacre, and the de- 
tails are indelibly and most vividly fixed in my 
mind. When I read of the marvelous growth of 
Seattle I can hardly realize that it is possible. I 
add my mite to the pioneer history of Seattle and 
vicinity. 

"I was born in Harrison township, Grant 
county, Wisconsin, November 13, 1848. When I 
was five months old my father started for the 
gold diggings in California, but died shortly after 
reaching that state. In the early part of 1851 my 

[91] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

mother married Harvey Jones. In the spring of 
1854 we started for Washington territory, over- 
land, reaching our destination on White river in 
the fall, having been six months and five days in 
making the trip. Our route lay through Iowa, 
Nebraska, Wyoming, Idaho, Oregon and Wash- 
ington territory. To speak in detail of all my 
recollections of this journey would make this ar- 
ticle too lengthy. 

"My step-father took up land on White river 
some twenty miles up the stream from Seattle. 
At that time there were only five or six families 
in the settlement, the nearest neighbor to us being 
about one-fourth mile distant. During the sum- 
mer of 1855 I went some two and a half miles to 
school along a path through the dense woods in 
danger both from wild animals and Indians. 
Some of the settlers became alarmed at reports 
of hostile intentions by the Indians upon our 
settlement and left some two weeks before the 
outbreak. Among those who thought their fears 
groundless and remained was our family. 

"On Sunday morning, October 28, 1855, 
while at breakfast we were surprised, and the 
house surrounded by a band of hostile Indians, 
who came running from the grass and bushes, 
whooping and discharging firearms. They seemed 
to rise from the ground so sudden and stealthy 
had been the attack. Our family consisted of my 
step-father (sick at the time), my mother, a half- 
sister, not quite four years old, a half-brother, 

[92] 






FOUNDING OF SEATTLE— INDIAN WAE. 

not quite two, a hired man, Cooper by name, and 
myself. 

" As soon as the Indians began firing into the 
house my mother covered us children over with a 
feather bed in the corner of one of the rooms 
farthest from the side attacked. In a short time 
it became evident we were entirely at the mercy 
of the savages, and after a hurried consultation 
between my mother and the hired man, he con- 
cluded to attempt to escape by flight ; accordingly 
he came into the room where I was, and with an 
ax pried off the casing of the window and re- 
moved the lower sash, and then jumped out, but 
as was afterward learned he was shot when only 
a few rods from the house. 

My step-father was shot about the same time 
inside the house while passing from his room to 
the one in which my mother was. In a short time 
there appeared to be a cessation of the firing, and 
upon looking out from under the bed over us I 
saw an Indian in the next room carrying some- 
thing out. Soon we were taken out by them. I 
did not see my mother. We were placed in the 
charge of the leader of the band who directed 
them in their actions. They put bedclothes and 
other combustible articles under the house and set 
fire to them, and in this way burned the house. 
When it was well nigh burned to the ground, we 
were led away by one of the tribe, who in a short 
time allowed us to go where we pleased. I first 
went to the nearest neighbor's, but all was con- 

[93] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

fusion, and no one was about. I then came back 
to the burned house. 

"I found my mother a short distance from 
the house, or where it had stood, still alive. She 
warned me to leave speedily and soon. I begged 
to stay with her but she urged me to flee. We 
made a dinner of some potatoes which had been 
baked by the fire. I carried my little half-brother 
and led my half-sister along the path to where I 
had gone to school during the summer, but there 
was no one there. I went still further on, but 
they, too, had gone. I came back to the school 
house, not knowing what to do. It was getting 
late. I was tired, as was my sister. My little 
brother was fretful, and cried to see his mother. 
I had carried him some three and a half or four 
miles altogether. 

" While trying to quiet them I saw an Indian 
coming toward us. He had not seen us. I hid the 
children in the bushes and moved toward him to 
meet him. I soon had the relief to recognize in 
him an acquaintance I had often seen while at- 
tending school. We knew him as Dave. He told 
me to bring the children to his wigwam. His 
squaw was very kind, but my sister and brother 
were afraid of her. In the night he took us in a 
canoe down the river to Seattle. I was taken on 
board the man-of-war, Decatur, and they were 
placed in charge of some one in the fort. An 
uncle, John Smale, had crossed the plains when 
we did, but went to California. He was written 

[94] 



POUNDING OF SEATTLE— INDIAN WAE. 

to about the massacre, and reached tis in June, 
1856. We went to San Francisco and then to the 
Isthmus, and from there we went to New York 
city. From there we were taken to Wisconsin, 
where my sister and brother remained. I was 
brought back to Ohio in September, 1856. They 
both died in October, 1864, of diphtheria, in Wis- 



consin." 



a 



John I. King, M. D." 



[95] 



CHAPTER V. 

THE MTTKDER OF MCCORMICK. 

The shores of Lake Union, in Seattle, now- 
surrounded by electric and steam railways, saw 
mills and manufactories, dwellings and public 
buildings, were clothed with a magnificent, dense, 
primeval forest, when the adventurous pioneers 
first looked upon its mirror-like surface. The 
shadowy depths of the solemn woods held many 
a dark and tragic secret; contests between ene- 
mies in both brute and human forms were doubt- 
less not infrequently hidden there. 

Many men came to the far northwest un- 
heralded and unknown to the few already estab- 
lished, and wandering about without guides, un- 
acquainted with the dangers peculiar to the 
region, were incautious and met a mysterious 
fate. 

For a long time the " Pioneer and Demo- 
crat," of Olympia, Washington, one of the 
earliest newspapers of the northwest, published 
an advertisement in its columns inquiring for 
James Montgomery McCormick, sent to it from 
Pennsylvania. It is thought to have been one and 
the same person with the subject of this sketch. 
Even if it were not, the name will do as well as 
any other. 

One brilliant summer day in July of 1853, 

[96] 



THE MITKDEE OF McCORMICK. 

a medium sized man, past middle age, was push- 
ing his way through the black raspberry jungle 
on the east side of Lake Union, gathering hand- 
f uls of the luscious fruit that hung in rich purple 
clusters above his head. A cool bubbling spring, 
that came from far up the divide toward Lake 
Washington, tempted him and stooping down he 
drank of the refreshing stream where it filled a 
little pool in the shadow of a mossy log. Glancing 
about him, he marked with a keen delight the 
loveliness of the vegetation, the plumy ferns, vel- 
vet mosses and drooping cedars ; how grateful to 
him must have been the cool north breeze wan- 
dering through the forest ! No doubt he thought 
it a pleasant place to rest in before returning to 
the far away settlement. Upon the mossy log he 
sat contentedly, marveling at the stillness of the 
mighty forest. 

The thought had scarcely formed itself when 
he was startled by the dipping of paddles, wild 
laughter and vociferous imitations of animals 
and birds. A canoe grated on the beach and 
after a brief expectant interval, tramping feet 
along the trail betokened an arrival and a group 
of young Indians came in sight, one of whom 
carried a Hudson Bay musket. 

"Kla-how-ya" (How do you do), said the 
leader, a flathead, with shining skin recently 
oiled, sinister black brows, and thick black hair 
cut square and even at the neck. 

At first they whistled and muttered, affect- 

[97] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

ing little interest in his appearance, yet all the 
while were keenly studying him. 

The white man had with him a rifle, revolv- 
er and camp ax. The young savages examined 
the gun, lifting it up and sighting at a knot-hole 
in a distant tree ; then the ax, the sharp edge of 
which they fingered, and the revolver, to their 
minds yet more fascinating. 

They were slightly disdainful as though not 
caring to own such articles, thereby allaying any 
fears he may have had as to their intentions. 
Being able to converse but little with the natives, 
the stranger good-naturedly permitted them to 
examine his weapons and even his clothing came 
under their scrutiny. His garments were new, 
and well adapted to frontier life. 

When he supposed their curiosity satisfied, 
he rose to go, when one of the Indians asked him, 
"Halo chicamum?" (Have you any money?) he 
incautiously slapped his hip pocket and answered 
"Hiyu chicamum" (plenty of money), perhaps 
imagining they did not know its use or value, 
then started on the trail. 

They let him go a little way out of sight and 
in a few, half -whispered, eager, savage words 
agreed to follow him, with what purpose did not 
require a full explanation. 

Noiselessly and swiftly they followed on his 
track. One shot from the musket struck him in 
the back of the head and he fell forward and 
they rushed upon him, seized the camp ax and 

[98] 



THE MURDER OF McCOEMICK. 

dealt repeated blows; life extinct, they soon 
stripped him of coat, shirt, and pantaloons, 
rifled the pockets, finding $200 and a few small 
trinkets, knife or keys. With the haste of guilt 
they threw the body still clothed in a suit of un- 
dergarments, behind a big log, among the bushes 
and hurried away with their booty, paddling 
swiftly far up the lake to their camp. 

A dark, cloudy night followed and the In- 
dians huddled around a little fire, ever and anon 
starting at some sound in the gloomy forest. Al- 
ready very superstitious, their guilt made them 
doubly afraid of imaginary foes. On a piece of 
mat in the center of the group lay the money, 
revolver, etc., of which they had robbed the un- 
fortunate white man. They intended to divide 
them by "slahal," the native game played with 
"stobsh" and "slanna" (men and women), as 
they called the round black and white disks with 
which they gambled. A bunch of shredded cedar 
bark was brought from the canoe and the game 
began. All were very skillful and continued for 
several hours, until at last they counted the 
clothes to one, all the money to another, and the 
revolver and trifles to the rest. One of the less 
fortunate in a very bad humor said "The game 
was not good, I don't want this little 'cultus' 
(worthless) thing." 

"O, you are stupid and don't understand 
it," they answered tauntingly, thereupon he 
rolled himself in his blanket and sulked himself 

[99] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

to sleep, while the others sat half dreamily plan- 
ning what they would do with their booty. 

Very early they made the portage between 
Lakes Union and Washington and returned to 
their homes. 

But they did not escape detection. 

Only a few days afterward an Indian wom- 
an, the wife of Hu-hu-bate-sute or " Salmon Bay 
Curley," crossed Lake Union to the black rasp- 
berry patch to gather the berries. Creeping here 
and there through the thick undergrowth, she 
came upon a gruesome sight, the disfigured body 
of the murdered white man. Scarcely waiting 
for a horrified "Achada!" she fled incontinently 
to her canoe and paddled quickly home to tell her 
husband. Hu-hu-bate-sute went back with her 
and arrived at the spot, where one log lay across 
another, hollowed out the earth slightly, rolled 
in and covered the body near the place where it 
was discovered. 

Suspecting it was the work of some wild, 
reckless Indians he said nothing about it. 

Their ill-gotten gains troubled the perpe- 
trators of the deed, brought them no good for- 
tune and they began to think there was "taman- 
use" about them; they gave the revolver away, 
bestowed the small articles on some unsuspect- 
ing "tenas" (children) and gave a part of the 
money to "Old Steve," whose Indian name was 
Stemalyu. 

The one who criticised the division of the 

[100] 



THE MURDER OP McCORMICK. 

spoils, whispered about among the other Indians 
dark hints concerning the origin of the suddenly 
acquired wealth and gradually a feeling arose 
against those who had the money. Quarreling 
one day over some trifle, one of them scornfully 
referred to the other's part of the cruel deed: 
"You are wicked, you killed a white man," said 
he. The swarthy face of the accused grew livid' 
with rage and he plunged viciously at the speak- 
er, but turning, eel-like, the accuser slipped 
away and ran out of sight into the forest. An 
old Indian followed him and asked "What was 
that you said?" 

"O nothing, just idle talk." 

"You had better tell me," said the old man 
sternly. 

After some hesitation he told the story. The 
old man was deeply grieved and so uneasy that 
he went all the way to Shilshole (Salmon Bay) 
to see if his friend Hu-hu-bate-sute knew any- 
thing about it and that discreet person astonished 
him by telling him his share of the story. By 
degrees it became known to the Indians on both 
lakes and at the settlement. 

Meanwhile the wife of the one accused in 
the contention, took the money and secretly drop- 
ped it into the lake. 

One warm September day in the fall of the 
same year, quite a concourse of Indians were 
gathered out doors near the big Indian house a 
little north of D. T. Denny's home in the set- 

[101] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

tlement (Seattle) ; they were having a great 
"wa-wa" (talk) about something; he walked 
over and asked them what it was all about. 

" Salmon Bay Curley," who was among 
them, thereupon told him of the murder and the 
distribution of the valuables. 

Shortly after, W. N. Bell, D. T. Denny, Dr. 
Maynard, E. A. Clark and one or two others, 
with Curley as a guide, went out to the lake, 
found the place and at first thought of removing 
the body, but that being impossible, Dr. Maynard 
placed the skull, or rather the fragments of it, 
in a handkerchief and took the two pairs of 
spectacles, one gold-rimmed, the other steel- 
rimmed, which were left by the Indians, and all 
returned to the settlement to make their report. 

Investigation followed and as a result four 
Indians were arrested. A trial before a Justice 
Court was held in the old Felker house, which 
was built by Captain Felker and was the first- 
large frame house of sawed lumber erected on 
the site of Seattle. 

At this trial, Klap-ke-lachi Jim testified pos- 
itively against two of them and implicated two 
others. The first two were summarily executed 
by hanging from a tall sharply leaning stump 
over which a rope was thrown; it stood where 
the New England Hotel was afterward built. A 
young Indian and one called Old Petawow were 
the others accused. 

Petawow was carried into court by two 

[102] 



THE MURDER OP McCORMICK. 

young Indians, having somehow broken his leg. 
There was not sufficient evidence against him to 
convict and he was released. 

C. D. Boren was sheriff and for lack of a 
jail, the young Indian accused was locked in a 
room in his own house. 

Not yet satisfied wth the work of execution, 
a mob headed by E. A. Clark determined to hang 
this Indian also. They therefore obtained the 
assistance of some sailors with block and tackle 
from a ship in the harbor, set up a tripod of 
spars, cut for shipment, over which they put the 
rope. In order to have the coast clear so they 
could break the "jail," a man was sent to Bor- 
en 's house, who pretended that he wished to buy 
some barrels left in Boren 's care by a cooper 
and stacked on the beach some distance away. 

The unsuspecting victim of the ruse accom- 
panied him to the beach where the man detained 
him as long as he thought necessary, talking of 
barrels, brine and pickling salmon, and perhaps 
not liking to miss the " neck-tie party," at last 
said, "Maybe we'd better get back, the boys are 
threatening mischief." 

Taking the hint instantly, Boren started on 
a dead run up the beach in a wild anxiety to save 
the Indian's life. In sight of the improvised 
scaffold he beheld the Indian with the noose 
around his neck, E. A. Clark and D. Livingston 
near by, a sea captain, who was a mere-on-looker, 

[103] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

and the four sailors in line with the rope in their 
hands, awaiting the order to pull. 

The sheriff recovered himself enough to 
shout, "Drop that rope, you rascals!" 

"O string him up, he's nothing but a Si- 
wash," said one. 

"Dry up ! you have no right to hang him, he 
will be tried at the next term of court," said 
Boren. The sailors dropped the rope, Boren re- 
moved the noose from the neck of the Indian, 
who was silent, bravely enduring the indignity 
from the mob. The majesty of the law was rec- 
ognized and the crowd dispersed. 

The Indian was sent to Steilacoom, where he 
was kept in jail for six months, but when tried 
there was no additional evidence and he was 
therefore released. Returning to his people he 
changed his name, taking that of his father's 
cousin, and has lived a quiet and peaceable life 
throughout the years. 

Sad indeed seems the fate of this unknown 
wanderer, but not so much so as that of others 
who came to the Northwest to waste their lives 
in riotous living and were themselves responsible 
for a tragic end of a wicked career, so often sor- 
rowfully witnessed by the sober and steadfast. 

Of the participants in this exciting episode, 
D. T. Denny, C. D. Boren and the Indian, whose 
life was so promptly and courageously saved 
by C. D. Boren from an ignominious death, are 
(in 1892) still living in King County, Washing- 
ton. [104 -j 




LOG CABIN IN THE SWALE 



CHAPTER VI. 



KILLING COUGARS. 



It was springtime in an early year of pio- 
neer times. D. T. and Louisa Denny were liv- 
ing in their log cabin in the swale, an opening 
in the midst of the great forest, about midway 
between Elliott Bay and Lake Union. Not very 
far away was their only neighbor, Thomas 
Mercer, with his family of several young daugh- 
ters. 

On a pleasant morning, balmy with the 
presage of coming summer, as the two pioneers, 
David T. Denny and Thomas Mercer, wended 
their way to their task of cutting timber, they 
observed some of the cattle lying down in an 
open space, and heard the tinkling bell of one 
of the little band wandering about cropping fresh 
spring herbage in the edge of the woods. They 
looked with a feeling of affection at the faithful 
dumb creatures who were to aid in affording 
sustenance, as well as a sort of friendly compan- 
ionship in the lonely wilds. 

After a long, sunny day spent in swinging 
the ax, whistling, singing and chatting, they re- 
turned to their cabins as the shadows were deep- 
ening in the mighty forest. 

In the first cabin there was considerable 
anxiety manifested by the mistress of the same, 

[105] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

revealed in the conversation at the supper table : 

" David," said she, "there was something 
wrong with the cattle today ; I heard a calf bawl 
as if something had caught it and 'Whiteface' 
came up all muddy and distressed looking." 

"Is that so? Did you look to see what it 
was?" 

"I started to go but the baby cried so that I 
had to come back. A little while before that I 
thought I heard an Indian halloo and looked out 
of the door expecting to see him come down to 
the trail, but I did not see anything at all." 

"What could it be? Well, it is so dark now 
in the woods that I can't see anything; I will 
have to wait until tomorrow." 

Early the next morning, David went up to 
the place where he had seen the calves the day 
before, taking "Towser," a large Newfound- 
land dog with him, also a long western rifle he 
had brought across the plains. 

Not so many rods away from the cabin he 
found the remnants of a calf upon which some 
wild beast had feasted the day previous. 

There were large tracks all around easily 
followed, as the ground was soft with spring 
rains. Towser ran out into the thick timber hard 
after a wild creature, and David heard something 
scratch and run up a tree and thought it must be 
a wild cat. 

No white person had ever seen any larger 
specimen of the feline race in this region. 

[106] 



KILLING COUGARS. 

He stepped up to a big fir log and walked 
along perhaps fifty feet and looking up a giant 
cedar tree saw a huge cougar glaring down at 
him with great, savage yellow eyes, crouching 
motionless, except for the incessant twitching, 
to and fro, of the tip of its tail, as a cat does 
when watching a mouse. 

Right before him in so convenient a place 
as to attract his attention, stood a large limb 
which had fallen and stuck into the ground 
alongside the log he was standing on, so he 
promptly rested his gun on it, but it sank into the 
soft earth from the weight of the gun and he 
quickly drew up, aiming at the chest of the 
cougar. 

The gun missed fire. 

Fearing the animal would spring upon him, 
he walked back along the log about twenty feet, 
took a' pin out of his coat and picked out the 
tube, poured in fresh powder from his powder 
horn and put on a fresh cap. 

All the time the yellow eyes watched him. 

Advancing again, he fired ; the bullet struck 
through its vitals, but away it went bolting up 
the tree quite a distance. Another bullet was 
rammed home in the old muzzle loader. The 
cougar was dying, but still held on by its claws 
stuck in the bark of the tree, its head resting on 
a limb. Receiving one more shot in the head it 
let go and came hurtling down to the ground. 

Towser was wild with savage delight and bit 

[107] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

his prostrate enemy many times, chewing at the 
neck until it was a mass of foam, but not once did 
his sharp teeth penetrate the tough, thick hide. 

Hurrying back, David called for Mercer, a 
genial man always ready to lend a hand, to help 
him get the beast out to the cabin. The two men 
found it very heavy, all they could stagger un- 
der, even the short distance it had to be carried. 

As soon as the killing of the cougar was re- 
ported in the settlement, two miles away, every-? 
body turned out to see the monster. 

Mrs. Catherine Blaine, the school teacher, 
who had gone home with the Mercer children, 
saw the animal and marveled at its size. 

Henry L. Yesler and all the mill hands re- 
paired to the spot to view the dead monarch of 
the forest, none of whom had seen his like be- 
fore. Large tracks had been seen in various 
places but were credited to timber wolves. This 
cougar's forearm measured the same as the leg 
of a large horse just above the knee joint. 

Such an animal, if it jumped down from a 
considerable height, would carry a man to the 
ground with such force as to stun him, when he 
could be clawed and chewed up at the creature's 
will. 

While the curious and admiring crowd were 
measuring and guessing at the weight of the 
cougar, Mr. Yesler called at the cabin. He kept 
looking about while he talked and finally said, 
You are quite high-toned here, I see your house 

[108] 



u 



KILLING COUGARS. 

is papered," at which all laughed good-natured- 
ly. Not all the cabins were " papered/' hut this 
one was made quite neat by means of newspapers 
pasted on the walls, the finishing touch being a 
border of nothing more expensive than blue 
calico. 

At last they were all satisfied with their in- 
spection of the first cougar and returned to the 
settlement. 

A moral might be pinned here : if this cougar- 
had not dined so gluttonously on the tender calf, 
which no doubt made excellent veal, possibly he 
would not have come to such a sudden and violent 
end. 

Had some skillful taxidermist been at hand 
to mount this splendid specimen of Felis Con- 
color, the first killed by a white man in this re- 
gion, it would now be very highly prized. 

Some imagine that the danger of encounters 
with cougars has been purposely exaggerated by 
the pioneer hunters to create admiring respect 
for their own prowess. This is not my opinion, 
as I believe there is good reason to fear them, 
especially if they are hungry. 

They are large, swift and agile, and have 
the advantage in the dense forest of the north- 
west Pacific coast, as they can station themselves 
in tall trees amid thick foliage and pounce upon 
deer, cattle and human beings. 

Several years after the killing of the first 
specimen, a cow was caught in the jaw by a coug- 

[109] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

ar, but wrenched herself away in terror and pain 
and ran home with the whole frightened herd at 
her heels, into the settlement of Seattle. 

The natives have always feared them and 
would much rather meet a bear than a cougar, 
as the former will, ordinarily, run away, while 
the latter is hard to scare and is liable to follow 
and spring out of the thick undergrowth. 

In one instance known to the pioneers first 
mentioned in this chapter, an Indian woman who 
was washing at the edge of a stream beat a cougar 
off her child with a stick, thereby saving its life. 

In early days, about 1869 or 70, a Mr. T. 
Cherry, cradling oats in a field in Squowh Val- 
ley, was attacked by a cougar ; holding his cradle 
between him and the hungry beast, he backed 
toward the fence, the animal following until the 
fence was reached. A gang of hogs were feed- 
ing just outside the enclosure and the cougar 
leaped the fence, seized one of the hogs and ran 
off with it. 

A saloon-keeper on the Snohomish River, 
walking along the trail in the adjacent forest one 
day with his yellow dog, was startled by the 
sudden accession to their party of a huge and 
hungry cougar. The man fled precipitately, 
leaving the dog to his fate. The wild beast fell 
to and made a meal of the hapless canine, de- 
vouring all but the tip of his yellow tail, which 
his sorrowing master found near the trail the 
next day. 

[110] 



KILLING COUGARS. 

A lonely pioneer cabin on the Columbia 
River was enclosed by a high board fence. One 
sunny day as the two children of the family were 
playing in the yard, a cougar sprang from a 
neighboring tree and caught one of the children ; 
the mother ran out and beat off the murderous 
beast, but the child was dead. 

She then walked six or seven miles to a set- 
tlement carrying the dead child, while leading 
the other. What a task! The precious burden, 
the heavier load of sorrow, the care of the re- 
maining child, the dread of a renewed attack 
from the cougar and the bodily fatigue incident 
to such a journey, forming an experience upon 
which it would be painful to dwell. 

Many more such incidents might be given, 
but I am reminded at this point that they would 
appropriately appear in another volume. 

Since the first settlement there have been 
killed in King County nearly thirty of these ani- 
mals. 

C. Brownfield, an old settler on Lake Union, 
killed several with the aid of "Jack," a yellow 
dog which belonged to D. T. Denny for a time, 
then to A. A. Denny. 

C. D. Boren, with his dog, killed others. 

Moses Kirkland brought a dog from Louis- 
iana, a half bloodhound, with which Henry Van 
Asselt hunted and killed several cougars. 

D. T. Denny killed one in the region occu- 
pied by the suburb of Seattle known as Ross. It 

tin] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

had been dining off mutton secured from Dr. H. 
A. Smith's flock of sheep. It was half grown 
and much the color of a deer. 

Toward Lake Washington another flock of 
sheep had been visited by a cougar, and Mr. Wet- 
more borrowed D. T. Denny's little dog 
" Watch," who treed the animal, remaining by 
it all night, but it escaped until a trap was set, 
when, being more hungry than cautious, it was 
secured. 



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WHERE WE WANDERED LONG AGO 



CHAPTER VII. 



PIONEER CHILD LIFE. 



The very thought of it makes the blood tin- 
gle and the heart leap. No element was wanting 
for romance or adventure. Indians, bears, pan- 
thers, far journeys, in canoes or on horseback, 
fording rivers, camping and tramping, and all 
in a virgin wilderness so full of grandeur and 
loveliness that even very little children were im- 
pressed by the appearance thereof. The strange- 
ness and newness of it all was hardly under- 
stood by the native white children as they had 
no means of comparing this region and mode of 
life with other countries and customs. 

Traditions did not trouble us; the Indians 
were generally friendly, the bears were only 
black ones and ran away from us as fast as their 
furry legs would carry them ; the panthers did 
not care to eat us up, we felt assured, while there 
was plenty of venison to be had by stalking, and 
on a journey we rode safely, either on the pom- 
mel of father's saddle or behind mother's, cling- 
ing like small kittens or cockleburs. 

Familiarity with the coquettish canoe made 
us perfectly at home with it, and in later years 
when the tenderfoot arrived, we were convulsed 
with inextinguishable laughter at what seemed to 
us an unreasoning terror of a harmless craft. 

[113] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

Ah ! we lived close to dear nature then ! Our 
play-grounds were the brown beaches or the hill- 
sides covered with plumy young fir trees, the 
alder groves or the slashings where we hacked 
and chopped with our little hatchets in imitation 
of our elders or the Father of His Country and 
namesake of our state. Eunning on long logs, 
the prostrate trunks of trees several hundred 
feet long, and jumping from one to another was 
found to be an exhilirating pastime. 

When the frolicsome Chinook wind came 
singing across the Sound, the boys flew home 
built kites of more or less ambitious proportions 
and the little girls ran down the hills, performing 
a peculiar skirt dance by taking the gown by the 
hem on either side and turning the skirt half 
over the head. Pacing the wind it assumed a 
baloonlike inflation very pleasing to the small 
performer. It was thought the proper thing to 
let the hair out of net or braids at the time, as 
the sensation of air permeating long locks was 
sufficient excuse for its " weirdness" as I suppose 
we would have politely termed it had we ever 
heard the word. Instead we were more likely to 
be reproved for having such untidy heads and 
perhaps reminded that we looked as wild as In- 
dians. "As wild as Indians," the poor Indians! 
How they admired the native white children! 
Without ceremony they claimed blood brother- 
hood, saying, "You were born in our "illahee" 
(country) and are our "tillicum" (people). 

[114] 



PIONEER CHILD LIFE. 

You eat the same food, will grow up here and 
belong to us." 

Often we were sung to sleep at night by their 
"tamanuse" singing, as we lived quite near the 
bank below which many Indians camped, on El- 
liott Bay. 

I never met with the least rudeness or suf- 
fered the slightest injury from an Indian except 
on one occasion. Walking upon the beach one 
day three white children drew near a group of 
Indian camps. Almost deserted they were, prob- 
ably the inhabitants had gone fishing; the only 
being visible was a boy about ten years of age. 
Snarling out some bitter words in an unknown 
tongue, he flung a stone which struck hard a 
small head, making a slight scalp wound. Such 
eyes ! they fairly glittered with hatred. We hur- 
ried home, the victim crying with the pain in- 
flicted, and learned afterward that the boy was 
none of our "tillicum" but a stranger from the 
Snohomish tribe. What cruel wrong had he 
witnessed or suffered to make him so full of bit- 
terness ? 

The Indian children were usually quite ami- 
able in disposition, and it seemed hard to refuse 
their friendly advances which it became neces- 
sary to do. In their primitive state they seemed 
perfectly healthy and happy little creatures. 
They never had the toothache ; just think of that, 
ye small consumers of colored candies! Un- 
known to them was the creeping horror that 

[115] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

white children feel when about to enter the ter- 
rible dentist's den. They had their favorite fear, 
however, the frightful "statalth," or " stick si- 
wash," that haunted the great forest. As near 
as we could ascertain, these were the ghosts of a 
long dead race of savages who had been of gigan- 
tic stature and whose ghosts were likewise very 
tall and dreadful and very fond of chasing peo- 
ple out of the woods on dark nights. Plenty of 
little white people know what the sensation is, 
produced by imagining that something is coming 
after them in the dark. 

I have seen a big, brawny, tough looking In- 
dian running as fast as he could go, holding a 
blazing pitchwood torch over his head while he 
glanced furtively over his shoulder for the ap- 
proaching statalth. 

Both white and Indian children were afraid 
of the Northern Indians, especially the Stick- 
eens, who were head-takers. 

We were seldom panic stricken; born amid 
dangers there seemed nothing novel about them 
and we took our environment as a matter of 
course. We were taught to be courageous but 
not foolhardy, which may account for our not 
getting oftener in trouble. 

The boys learned to shoot and shoot well at 
an early age, first with shot guns, then rifles* 
Sometimes the girls proved dangerous with fire- 
arms in their hands. A sister of the writer 
learned to shoot off the head of a grouse at long 

[116] 



PIONEER CHILD LIFE. 

range. A girl schoolmate, when scarcely grown, 
shot and killed a bear. My brothers and cousin, 
Wm. R. Boren, were good shots at a tender age 
and killed numerous bears, deer, grouse, pheas- 
ants, ducks, wild pigeon, etc., in and about the 
district now occupied by the city of Seattle. 

The wild flowers and the birds interested us 
deeply and every spring we joyfully noted the 
returning bluebirds and robins, the migrating 
wren and a number of other charming feathered 
friends. The high banks, not then demolished by 
grades, were smothered in greenery and hung 
with banners of bloom every succeeding season. 

We clambered up and down the steep places 
gathering armfuls of lillies (trillium), red cur- 
rant (ribes sanguineum), Indian- arrow- wood 
(spiraea), snowy syringa (philadelphus) and 
blue f orgetmenots and the yellow blossoms of the 
Oregon grape (berberis glumacea and aquifo- 
lium), which we munched with satisfaction for 
the soursweet, and the scarlet honeysuckle to bite 
off the honeyglands for a like purpose. 

The salmonberry and blackberry seasons 
were quite delightful. To plunge into the thick 
jungle, now traversed by Pike Street, Seattle, 
was a great treat. There blackberries attained 
Brobdignagian hugeness, rich and delicious. 

On a Saturday, our favorite reward for les- 
sons and work well done, was to be allowed to 
go down the lovely beach with its wide strip of 
variegated shingle and bands of brown, ribbed 

[117] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

sand, as far as the " three big stones," no farther, 
as there were bears, panthers and Indians, as 
hereinbefore stated, inhabiting the regions 
round about. 

One brilliant April day we felt very brave, 
we were bigger than ever before, five was quite 
a party, and the flowers were O ! so enchanting 
a little farther on. Two of us climbed the bank 
to gather the tempting blossoms. 

Our little dog, " Watch," a very intelligent 
animal, took the lead; scarcely had we gained 
the top and essayed to break the branch of a 
wild currant, gay with rose colored blossoms, 
when Watch showed unusual excitement about 
something, a mysterious something occupying 
the cavernous depths of an immense hollow log. 
With his bristles up, rage and terror in every 
quivering muscle, he was slowly, very slowly, 
backing toward us. 

Although in the woods often, we had never 
seen him act so before. We took the hint and 
to our heels, tumbled down the yielding, yellow 
bank in an exceedingly hasty and unceremonious 
manner, gathered up our party of thoroughly 
frightened youngsters and hurried along the sand 
homeward, at a double quick pace. 

Hardly stopping for a backward glance to 
see if the " something" was coming after us, we 
reached home, safe but subdued. 

Not many days after the young truants were 
invited down to an Indian camp to see the car- 

[118] 



PIONEER CHILD LIFE. 

cass of a cougar about nine feet long. There it 
lay, stretched out full length, its hard, white 
teeth visible beyond the shrunken lips, its huge 
paws quite helpless and harmless. 

It is more than probable that this was the 
" something" in the great hollow log, as it was 
killed in the vicinity of the place where our 
stampede occurred. 

Evidently Watch felt his responsibility and 
did the best he could to divert the enemy while 
we escaped. 

The dense forest hid many an unseen dan- 
ger in early days and it transpired that I never 
saw a live cougar in the woods, but even a dead 
one may produce real old fashioned fright in a, 
spectator. 

Having occasion, when attending the Uni- 
versity, at the age of twelve, to visit the library 
of that institution, a strange adventure befell 
me; the selection of a book absorbed my mind 
very fully and I was unprepared for a sudden 
change of thought. Turning from the shelves, 
a terrible sight met my eyes, a ferocious wild 
beast, all its fangs exhibited, in the opposite cor- 
ner of the room. How did each particular hair 
stand upright and prespiration ooze from every 
pore! A moment passed and a complete col- 
lapse of the illusion left the victim weak and 
disgusted; it was only the stuffed cougar given 
to the Faculty to be the necleus of a great col- 
lection. 

[119] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

The young Washingtonians, called " clam- 
diggers," were usually well fed, what with ven- 
ison, fish, grouse and berries, game of many 
kinds, and creatures of the sea, they were really 
pampered, in the memory of the writer. But it 
is related by those who experienced the priva- 
tions incident to the first year or two of white 
settlement, that the children were sometimes 
hungry for bread, especially during the first 
winter at Alki. Fish and potatoes were plenti- 
ful, obtained from the Indians, syrup from a 
vessel in the harbor, but bread was scarce. On 
one occasion, a little girl of one of the four white 
families on Elliott Bay, was observed to pick 
up an old crust and carry it around in her pocket. 
When asked what she intended to do with that 
crust, with childish simplicity she replied, "Save 
it to eat with syrup at dinner." Not able to re- 
sist its delicious flavor she kept nibbling away at 
the crust until scarcely a crumb remained; its 
dessicated surface had no opportunity to be 
masked with treacle. 

To look back upon our pioneer menu is quite 
tantalizing. 

The fish, of many excellent kinds, from the 
"salt-chuck," brought fresh and flapping to our 
doors, in native baskets by Indian fishermen, 
cooked in many appetizing ways; clams of all 
sizes from the huge bivalves weighing three- 
quarters of a pound a piece to the tiny white soup 
clam; sustain me, O my muse, if I attempt to 

[120] 



PIONEER CHILD LIFE. 

describe their excellence. Every conceivable 
preparation, soup, stew, baked, pie, fry or chow- 
der was tried with the happiest results. The 
Puget Sound oyster, not the stale, globe-trotting 
oyster of however aristocratic antecedents, the 
enjoyment in eating of which is chiefly as a rem- 
iniscence, but the fresh western oyster, was much 
esteemed. 

The crab, too, figured prominently on the bill 
of fare, dropped alive in boiling water and served 
in scarlet, a la naturel. 

A pioneer family gathered about the table 
enjoying a feast of the stalk-eyed crustaceans, 
were treated to a little diversion in this wise. 
The room was small, used for both kitchen and 
diningroom, as the house boasted of but two or 
three rooms, consequently space was economized. 

A fine basket of crabs traded from an In- 
dian were put in a tin pan and set under the 
table; several were cooked, the rest left alive. 
As one of the children was proceeding with the 
dismemberment necessary to extract the delicate 
meat, as if to seek its fellows, the crab slipped 
from her grasp and slid beneath the table. Stoop- 
ing down she hastily seized her crab, as she sup- 
posed, but to her utter astonishment it seemed to 
have come to life, it was alive, kicking and 
snapping. In a moment the table was in an up- 
roar of crab catching and wild laughter. The 
mother of the astonished child declares that to 

5a- [121] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

this day she cannot help laughing whenever she 
thinks of the crab that came to life. 

It was to this home that John and Sarah 
Denny, and their little daughter, Loretta, came 
to visit their son, daughter and the grandchil- 
dren, in the winter of 1857-8. 

Grandmother was tall and straight, dressed 
in a plain, dark gown, black silk apron and lace 
cap; her hair, coal black, slightly gray on the 
temples ; her eyes dark, soft and gentle. She 
brought a little treat of Oregon apples from their 
farm in the Waldo Hills, to the children, who 
thought them the most wonderful fruit they had 
ever seen, more desirable than the golden apples 
of Hesperides. 

We were to return with them, joyful news! 
What visions of bliss arose before us ! new places 
to see and all the nice things and good times we 
children could have at grandfather's farm. 

When the day came, in the long, dark canoe, 
manned by a crew of Indians, we embarked for 
Olympia, the head of navigation, bidding " good- 
bye" to our friends, few but precious, who 
watched us from the bank, among whom were an 
old man and his little daughter. 

A few days before he had been sick and one 
of the party sent him a steaming cup of ginger 
and milk which, although simple, had proved 
efficacious; ere we reached our home again he 
showed his gratitude in a substantial manner, as 
will be seen farther on. 

[122] 



PIONEER CHILD LIFE. 

At one beautiful resting place, the canoe 
slid up against a strip of shingle covered with 
delicate shells; we were delighted to be allowed 
to walk about, after sitting curled up in the bot- 
tom of the canoe for a long time, to gather crab, 
pecten and periwinkle shells, even extending our 
ramble to a lovely grove of dark young ever- 
greens, standing in a grassy meadow. 

The first night of the journey was spent in 
Steilacoom. It was March of 1858 and it was 
chilly traveling on the big salt water. We were 
cold and hungry but the keeper of the one hotel 
in the place had retired and refused to be 
aroused, so we turned to the only store, where 
the proprietor received us kindly, brought out 
new blankets to cover us while we camped on the 
floor, gave us bread and a hot oyster stew, the 
best his place afforded. His generous hospitality 
was never forgotten by the grateful recipients 
who often spoke of it in after years. 

I saw there a " witches' scene" of an old 
Indian woman boiling devilfish or octopus in a 
kettle over a campfire, splendidly lit against the 
gloom of night, and all reflected in the water. 

At the break of day we paddled away over 
the remainder of the salt-chuck, as the Indians 
call the sea, until Stetchas was reached. Stetchas 
is " bear's place," the Indian name for the site 
of Olympia. 

From thence the mail stage awaited us to 
Cowlitz Landing. The trip over this stretch of 

[123] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

country was not exactly like a triumphal pro- 
gress. The six-horse team plunged and floun- 
dered, while the wagon sank up to the hub in 
black mud; the language of the driver has not 
been recorded. 

At the first stop out from Olympia, the Til- 
ley's, famous in the first annals, entertained us. 
At a bountiful and appetizing meal, one of the 
articles, boiled eggs, were not cooked to suit 
Grandfather John Denny. With amusing blunt- 
ness he sent the chicken out to be killed before 
he ate it, complaining that the eggs were not hard 
enough. Mrs. Tilly made two or three efforts and 
finally set the dish down beside him saying, 
" There, if that isn't hard enough you don't de- 
serve to have any." 

The long rough ride ended at Warbass' 
Landing on the Cowlitz River, a tributary of the 
Columbia, and another canoe trip, this time on a 
swift and treacherous stream, was safely made 
to Monticello, a mere little settlement. A tin$ 
steamboat, almost microscopic on the wide water, 
carried us across the great Columbia with its 
sparkling waves, and up the winding Willamette 
to Portland, Oregon. 

From thence the journey progressed to the 
falls below Oregon City. 

At the portage, we walked along a narrow 
plank walk built up on the side of the river bank 
which rose in a high rounded hill. Its noble out- 
line stood dark with giant firs against a blue 

[124] 



PIONEER CHILD LIFE. 

spring sky; the rushing, silvery flood of the 
Willamette swept below us past a bank fringed 
with wild currants just coming into bloom. 

At the end of the walk there stood a house 
which represented itself as a resting place for 
weary travelers. We spent the night there but 
Alas ! for rest ; the occupants were convivial and 
" drowned the shamrock" all night long, as no 
doubt they felt obliged to do for wasn't it "St. 
Patrick's Day in the mornin"?" 

Most likely we three, the juveniles, slum- 
bered peacefully until aroused to learn that we 
were about to start "sure enough" for grand- 
father's farm in the Waldo Hills. 

At length the log cabin home was reached 
and our interest deepened in everything about. 
So many flowers to gather as they came in lively 
processional, blue violets under the oaks, blue- 
flags all along the valley ; such great, golden but- 
tercups, larkspurs, and many a wildling we 
scarcely called by any name. 

All the affairs of the house and garden, field 
and pasture seemed by us especially gotten up 
for our amusement and we found endless enter- 
tainment therein. 

If a cheese was made or churning done we 
were sure to be "hanging around" for a green 
curd or paring, a taste of sweet butter or a 
chance to lift the dasher of the old fashioned 
churn. The milking time was enticing, too, and 
we trotted down to the milking pen with our 

[125] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

little tin cups for a drink of fresh, warm milk 
from the fat, lowing kine, which fed all day on 
rich grasses and waited at the edge of the flower 
decked valley for the milkers with their pails. 

As summer advanced our joys increased, for 
there were wild strawberries and such luscious 
ones! no berries in after years tasted half so 
good. 

Some artist has portrayed a group of chil- 
dren on a sunny slope among the hills, busy with 
the scarlet fruit and called it "The Strawberry 
of Memory"; such was the strawberry of that 
summer. 

One brilliant June day when all the land- 
scape was steeped in sunshine we went some dis- 
tance from home to gather a large supply. It is 
needless to say that we, the juvenile contingent, 
improved the opportunity well ; and when we sat 
at table the following day and grandfather 
helped us to generous pieces of strawberry 
"cobbler" and grandmother poured over them 
rich, sweet cream, our satisfaction was complete. 
It is likely that if we had heard of the boy who 
wished for a neck as long as a giraffe so that he 
could taste the good things all the way down, we 
would have echoed the sentiment. 

Mentioning the giraffe, of the animal also 
we probably had no knowledge as books were 
few and menageries, none at all. 

No lack was felt, however, as the wild ani- 
mals were numerous and interesting. The birds, 

[126] 



PIONEER CHILD LIFE. 

rabbits and squirrels were friendly and fearless 
then ; the birds were especially loved and it was 
pleasing to translate their notes into endear- 
ments for ourselves. 

But the rolling suns brought round the day 
when we must return to our native heath on 
Puget Sound. Eight sorry were the two little 
"clam-diggers" to leave the little companion of 
delightful days, and grandparents. With a 
rush of tears and calling " good-bye! good 
bye!" as long as we could see or hear we rode 
away in a wagon, beginning the long journey, 
full of variety, back to the settlement on Elliott 
Bay. 

Ourselves, and wagon and team purchased 
in the " web-foot" country, were carried down 
the Willamette and across the sweeping Colum- 
bia on a steamer to Monticello. There the wagon 
was loaded into a canoe to ascend the Cowlitz 
River, and we mounted the horses for a long 
day's ride, one of the children on the pommel 
of father's saddle, the other perched behind on 
mother's steed. 

The forest was so dense through which we 
rode for a long distance that the light of noon- 
day became a feeble twilight, the way was a mere 
trail, the salal bushes on either side so tall that 
they brushed the feet of the little riders. The 
tedium of succeeding miles of this weird wilder- 
ness was beguiled by the stories, gentle warnings 
and encouragement from my mother. 

[127] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

The cicadas sang as if it were evening, the 
dark woods looked a little fearful and I was 
advised to "Hold on tight and keep awake, there 
are bears in these woods." 

The trail led us to the first crossing of the 
Cowlitz River, where father hallooed long and 
loud for help to ferry us over, from a lonely 
house on the opposite shore, but only echo and 
silence returned. The deep, dark stream, som- 
bre forest and deserted house made an eerie im- 
pression on the children. 

The little party boarded the ferryboat and 
swimming the horses alongside crossed without 
delay. 

The next afternoon saw us nearing the cross- 
ing of the Cowlitz again at Warbass Landing. 

The path crossed a pretty open space cov- 
ered with ripe yellow grass and set around with 
giant trees, just before it vanished in the hurry- 
ing stream. 

Father rode on and crossed, quite easily, the 
uneven bed of the swift river, with its gravelly 
islands and deep pools. 

When it came our turn, our patient beast 
plunged in and courageously advanced to near 
the middle of the stream, wavered and stood still 
and seemed about to go down with the current. 
How distinctly the green, rapid water, gravelly 
shoals and distant bank with its anxious onlook- 
ers is photographed on my memory's page! 

Only for a moment did the brave animal 

[128] 



PIONEER CHILD LIFE. 

falter and then sturdily worked her way to the 
shore. Mr. Warbass, with white face and trem- 
bling voice, said "I thought you were gone, 
sure." His coat was off and he had been on the 
point of plunging in to save us from drowning, 
if possible. Willing hands helped us down and 
into the hospitable home, where we were glad 
to rest after such a severe trial. A sleepless night 
followed for my mother, who suffered from the 
reaction common to such experience, although 
not panic stricken at the time of danger. 

It was here I received my first remembered 
lesson in "meum et tuum." While playing un- 
der the fruit trees around the house I spied a 
peach lying on the ground, round, red and fair 
to see. I took it in to my mother who asked 
where I got it, if I had asked for it, etc. I replied 
I had found it outdoors. 

"Well, it isnt' yours, go and give it to the 
lady and never pick up anything without asking 
for it." 

A lesson that was heeded, and one much 
needed by children in these days when individ- 
ual rights are so little regarded. 

The muddy wagon road between this point 
and Olympia over which the teams had struggled 
in the springtime was now dry and the wagon 
was put together with hope of a fairly comfort- 
able trip. It was discovered in so doing that the 
tongue of the vehicle had been left at Monticello. 
Not to be delayed, father repaired to the woods 

[129] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

and cut a forked ash stick and made it do duty 
for the missing portion. 

At Olympia we were entertained by Mr. and 
Mrs. Dickinson with whom we tarried as we went 
to Oregon. 

My mother preferred her steed to the steam- 
er plying on the Sound ; that same trip the self- 
same craft blew up. 

On horseback again, we followed the trail 
from Olympia to the Duwampsh River, over hills 
and hollows, out on the prairie or in the dark 
forest, at night putting up at the house of a hos- 
pitable settler. From thence we were told that 
it was only one day's travel but the trail stretched 
out amazingly. Night, and a stormy one, over- 
took the hapless travelers. 

The thunder crashed, the lightning flamed, 
sheets of rain came down, but there was no es- 
cape. 

A halt was called at an open space in a grove 
of tall cedar trees, a fire made and the horses 
hitched under the trees. 

The two children slept snugly under a fir 
bark shed made of slabs of bark leaned up 
against a large log. Father and mother sat by 
the fire under a cedar whose branches gave a 
partial shelter. Some time in the night I was 
awakened by my mother lying down beside me, 
then slept calmly on. 

The next morning everything was dripping 
wet and we hastened on to the Duwampsh cross- 

[130] 



PIONEEB CHILD LIFE. 

ing where lived the old man who stood on the 
bank at Seattle when we started. 

What a comfort it was to the cold, wet, hun- 
gry, weary quartette to be invited into a dry 
warm place ! and then the dinner, just prepared 
for company he had been expecting ; a bountiful 
supply of garden vegetables, beets, cabbage, po- 
tatoes, a great dish of beans and hot coffee. These 
seemed veritable luxuries and we partook of 
them with a hearty relish. 

A messenger was sent to Seattle to apprise 
our friends of our return, two of them came to 
meet us at the mouth of the Duwampsh Eiver and 
brought us down the bay in a canoe to the land- 
ing near the old laurel (Madrona) tree that 
leaned over the bank in front of our home. 

The first Fourth of July celebration in which 
I participated took place in the old M. E. Church 
on Second Street, Seattle, in 1861. 

Early in the morning of that eventful day 
there was hurrying to and fro in the Denny's 
cottage, on Seneca Street, embowered in flowers 
which even luxuriant as they were we did not 
deem sufficient. The nimble eldest of the children 
was sent to a flower-loving neighbor's for blos- 
soms of patriotic hues, for each of the small 
Americans was to carry a banner inscribed with 
a strong motto and wreathed with red, white and 
blue flowers. Large letters, cut from the titles 
of newspapers spelled out the legends on squares 
of white cotton, " Freedom for All," " Slavery 

[131] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

for none," " United we stand, divided we fall," 
each surrounded with a heavy wreath of beauti- 
ful flowers. 

Arrived at the church, we found ourselves 
a little late, the orator was just rounding the first 
of his eloquent periods ; the audience, principal- 
ly men, turned to view the disturbers as they 
sturdily marched up the aisle to a front seat, and 
seeing the patriotic family with their expressive 
emblems, broke out in a hearty round of ap- 
plause. Although very young we felt the spirit 
of the occasion. 

The first commencement exercises at the Un- 
iversity took place in 1863. It was a great event, 
an audience of about nine hundred or more, in- 
cluding many visitors from all parts of the 
Sound, Victoria, B. C, and Portland, Oregon, 
gathered in the hall of the old University, then 
quite new. 

I was then nine years of age and had been 
trained to recite " Barbara Prietchie,"^it "goes 
without the saying" that it was received with ac- 
claim, as feeling ran high and the hearts of the 
people burned within them for the things that 
were transpiring in the South. 

Still better were they pleased and much af- 
fected by the singing of "Who Will Care for 
Mother Now," by Annie May Adams, a lovely 
young girl of fifteen, with a pure, sympathetic, 
soprano voice and a touching simplicity of style. 

How warm beat the hearts of the people on 

[132] 



PIONEER CHILD LIFE. 

this far off shore, as at the seat of war, and even 
the children shouted, sang and wept in sympathy 
with those who shed their lifeblood for their 
country. 

The singing of "Red, White and Blue" by 
the children created great enthusiasm ; war tab- 
leaux such as "The Soldier's Farewell," "Who 
Goes There ? " "In Camp, ' ' were well presented 
and received with enthusiastic applause, and 
whatever apology might have been made for the 
status of the school, there was none to be made 
for its patriotism. 

Our teachers were Unionists without excep- 
tion and we were taught many such things; 
"Rally Round the Flag" was a favorite and up 
went every right hand and stamped hard every 
little foot as we sang "Down With the Traitor 
and Up With the Stars" with perhaps more en- 
ergy than music. 

The children of my family, with those of A. 
A. Denny's, sometimes held "Union Meetings"; 
at these were speeches made that were very in- 
tense, as we thought, from the top of a stump or 
barrel, each mounting in turn to declaim against 
slavery and the Confederacy, to pronounce sen- 
tence of execution upon Jeff. Davis, Captain 
Semmes, et al. in a way to have made those 
worthies uneasy in their sleep. Every book, pic- 
ture, story, indeed, every printed page concern- 
ing the war was eagerly scanned and I remember 
sitting by, through long talks of Grandfather 

[133] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

John Denny with my father, to which I listened 
intently. 

We finally burned Semmes in effigy to ex- 
press our opinion of him and named the only 
poor, sour apple in our orchard for the Confed- 
erate president. 

For a time there were two war vessels ill 
the harbor, the "Saranac" and "Suwanee," aft- 
erwards wrecked in Seymour Narrows. The 
Suwanee was overturned and sunk by the shift- 
ing of her heavy guns, but was finally raised. 
Both had fine bands that discoursed sweet music 
every evening. We stood on the bank to listen, 
delighted to recognize our favorites, national airs 
and war songs, from "Just Before the Battle, 
Mother" to "Star Spangled Banner." 

Other beautiful music, from operas, per- 
haps, we enjoyed without comprehending, al- 
though we did understand the stirring strains 
with which we were so familiar. 

In those days the itinerant M. E. ministers 
were often the guests of my parents and many 
were the good natured jokes concerning the fatal- 
ities among the yellow-legged chickens. 

On one occasion a small daughter of the 
family, whose discretion had not developed with 
her hospitality, rushed excitedly into the sitting 
room where the minister was being entertained 
and said, "Mother, which chicken shall I catch?" 
to the great amusement of all. 

One of the reverend gentlemen declared that 

[134] 



PIONEER CHILD LIFE. 

whenever he put in an appearance, the finest and 
fattest of the flock immediately lay down upon 
their backs with their feet in the air, as they 
knew some of them would have to appear on the 
festal board. 

Like children everywhere we lavished oui; 
young affections on pets of many kinds. Among 
these were a family of kittens, one at least of 
which was considered superfluous. An Indian 
woman, who came to trade clams for potatoes, 
was given the little "pish-pish," as she called it, 
with which she seemed much pleased, carrying it 
away wrapped in her shawl. 

Her camp was a mile away on the shore of 
Elliott Bay, from whence it returned through 
the thick woods, on the following day. Soon 
after she came to our door to exhibit numerous 
scratches on her hands and arms made by the 
"mesachie pish-pish" (bad cat), as she now con- 
sidered it. My mother healed her wounds by 
giving her some "supalel" (bread) esteemed a 
luxury by the Indians, they seldom having it 
unless they bought a little flour and made ash- 
cake. 

Now this same ash-cake deserves to rank 
with the southern cornpone or the western John- 
ny cake. Its flavor is sweet and nut-like, quite 
unlike that of bread baked in an ordinary oven.* 

The first Christmas tree was set up in our 
own house. It was not then a common American 
custom; we usually called out " Christmas Gift," 

[135] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

affecting to claim a present after the Southern 
"Christmas Gif" of the darkies. One early 
Christmas, father brought in a young Douglas 
fir tree and mother hung various little gifts on 
its branches, among them, bright red Lady apples 
and sticks of candy; that was our very first 
Christmas tree. A few years afterward the 
whole village joined in loading a large tree with 
beautiful and costly articles, as times were good, 
fully one thousand dollars' worth was hung upon 
and heaped around it. 

When the fourth time our family returned to 
the donation claim, now a part of the city of 
Seattle, we found a veritable paradise of flowers, 
field and forest. 

The claim reached from Lake Union to El- 
liott Bay, about a mile and a half ; a portion of 
it was rich meadow land covered with luxuriant 
grass and bordered with flowering shrubs, the 
fringe on the hem of the mighty evergreen for- 
est covering the remainder. 

Hundreds of birds of many kinds built their 
nests here and daily throughout the summer 
chanted their hymns of praise. Robins and 
wrens, song-sparrows and snow birds, thrushes 
and larks vied with each other in joyful song. 

The western meadow larks wandered into 
this great valley, adding their rich flute-like 
voices to the feathered chorus. 

Woodpeckers, yellow hammers and sap- 
suckers, beat their brave tattoo on the dead tree 

[136] 



PIONEER CHILD LIFE. 

trunks and owls uttered their cries from the thick 
branches at night. Riding to church one Sunday 
morning we beheld seven little owls sitting in a 
row on the dead limb of a tall fir tree, about four- 
teen feet from the ground. Winking and blink- 
ing they sat, silently staring as we passed by. 

Rare birds peculiar to the western coast, the 
rufous-backed hummingbird, like a living coal 
of fire, and the bush-titmouse which builds a cur- 
ious hanging nest, also visited this natural park. 

The road we children traveled from this 
place led through heavy forest and the year of 
the drouth (1868) a great fire raged; we lost but 
little time on this account ; it had not ceased be- 
fore we ran past the tall firs and cedars flaming 
far above our heads. 

Returning from church one day, when about 
half way home, a huge fir tree fell just behind 
us, and a half mile farther on we turned down a 
branch road at the very moment that a tree fell 
across the main road usually traveled. 

The game was not then all destroyed ; water 
fowl were numerous on the lakes and bays and 
the boys of the family often went shooting. 

Rather late in the afternoon of a November 
day, the two smaller boys, taking a shot gun with 
them, repaired to Lake Union, borrowed a little 
fishing canoe of old Tsetseguis, the Indian who 
lived at the landing, and went to look at some 
muskrat traps they had set. 

It was growing quite dark when they thought 

[137] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

of returning. For some reason they decided to 
change places in the canoe, a very " ticklish' ' 
thing to do. When one attempted to pass the 
other, over went the little cockle-shell and both 
were struggling in the water. The elder man- 
aged to thrust one arm through the strap of the 
hunting bag worn by the younger and grasped 
him by the hair, said hair being a luxuriant mass 
of long, golden brown curls. Able to swim a little 
he kept them afloat although he could not keep 
the younger one's head above water. His cries 
for help reached the ears of a young man, Charles 
Nollop, who was preparing to cook a beefsteak 
for his supper — he threw the frying pan one way 
while the steak went the other, and rushed, coat- 
less and hatless, to the rescue with another man, 
Joe Raber, in a boat. 

An older brother of the two lads, John B. 
Denny, was just emerging from the north door 
of the big barn with two pails of milk ; hearing, 
as he thought, the words "I'm drowning," rather 
faintly from the lake, he dropped the pails un- 
ceremoniously and ran down to the shore swiftly, 
found only an old shovel-nosed canoe and no pad- 
dle, seized a picket and paddled across the little 
bay to where the water appeared agitated ; there 
he found the boys struggling in the water, or 
rather one of them, the other was already uncon- 
scious. Arriving at the same time in their boat 
Charley Nollop and Joe Eaber helped to pull 
them out of the water. The long golden curls of 

[138] 



PIONEER CHILD LIFE. 

the younger were entangled in the crossed cords 
of the shot pouch and powder flask worn by the 
older one, who was about to sink for the last time, 
as he was exhausted and had let go of the young- 
er, who was submerged. 

Their mother reached the shore as the un- 
conscious one was stretched upon the ground and 
raised his arms and felt for the heart which was 
beating feebly. 

The swimmer walked up the hill to the 
house; the younger, still unconscious, was car- 
ried, face downward, into a room where a large 
fire was burning in an open fireplace, and laid 
down before it on a rug. Restoratives were 
quickly applied and upon partial recovery he 
was warmly tucked in bed. A few feverish days 
followed, yet both escaped without serious in- 
jury. 

Mrs. Tsetseguis was much grieved and re- 
peated over and over, "I told the Oleman not to 
lend that little canoe to the boys, and he said, 
'O it's all right, they know how to manage a 
canoe.' " 

Tsetseguis was also much distressed and 
showed genuine sympathy, following the res- 
cued into the house to see if they were really 
safe. 

The games we played in early days were 
often the time-honored ones taught us by our 
parents, and again were inventions of our own. 
During the Rebellion we drilled as soldiers or 

[139] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

played " black man"; by the latter we wrought 
excitement to the highest pitch, whether we 
chased the black man, or returning the favor, he 
chased us. 

The teeter-board was available when the 
neighbor's children came; the wonder is that no 
bones were broken by our method. 

The longest, strongest, Douglas fir board 
that could be found, was placed across a large 
log, a huge stone rested in the middle and the 
children, boys and girls, little and big, crowded 
on the board almost filling it ; then we carefully 
" waggled" it up and down, watching the stone in 
breathless and ecstatic silence until weary of it. 

Our bravado consisted in climbing up the 
steepest banks on the bay, or walking long logs 
across ravines or on steep inclines. 

The surroundings were so peculiar that old 
games took on new charms when played on Puget 
Sound. Hide-and-seek in a dense jungle of 
young Douglas firs was most delightful; the 
great fir and cedar trees, logs and stumps, af- 
forded ample cover for any number of players, 
from the sharp eyes of the one who had been 
counted "out" with one of the old rhymes. 

The shadow of danger always lurked about 
the undetermined boundary of our playgrounds, 
wild animals and wild men might be not far be- 
yond. 

We feared the drunken white man more 
than the sober Indian, with much greater rea- 

[140] 



PIONEER CHILD LIFE. 

son. Even the drunken Indian never molested 
us, but usually ran " amuck" among the inhabi- 
tants of the beach. 

Neither superstitious nor timid we seldom 
experienced a panic. 

The nearest Indian graveyard was on a hill 
at the foot of Spring Street, Seattle. It sloped 
directly down to the beach; the bodies were 
placed in shallow graves to the very brow and 
down over the face of the sandy bluff. All this 
hill was dug down when the town advanced. 

The childrens' graves were especially pa- 
thetic, with their rude shelters, to keep off the 
rain of the long winter months, and upright 
poles bearing bits of bright colored cloth, tin 
pails and baskets. 

Over these poor graves no costly monuments 
stood, only the winds sang wild songs there, the 
seagulls flitted over, the fair, wild flowers 
bloomed and the dark-eyed Indian mothers tar- 
ried sometimes, human as others in their sor- 
row. 

But the light-hearted Indian girls wandered 
past, hand in hand, singing as they went, paus- 
ing to turn bright friendly eyes upon me as they 
answered the white child's question, "Ka mika 
klatawa?" (Where are you going?) 

"O, kopa yawa" (O, over yonder), nodding 
toward the winding road that stretched along the 
green bank before them. Without a care or sor- 
row, living a healthy, free, untrammeled life, 

[141] 



BLAZING THE WAY, 

they looked the impersonation of native content- 
ment. 

The social instinct of the pioneers found ex- 
pression in various ways. 

A merry party of pioneer young people, in- 
vited to spend the evening at a neighbor's, were 
promised the luxury of a candy-pull. The first 
batch was put on to boil and the assembled 
youngsters engaged in old fashioned games to 
while away the time. Unfortunately for their 
hopes the molasses burned and they were obliged 
to throw it away. There was a reserve in the 
jug, however, and the precious remainder was 
set over the fire and the games went on again. 
Determined to succeed, the hostess stirred, while 
an equally anxious and careful guest held the 
light, a small fish-oil lamp. The lamp had a leak 
and was set on a tin plate; in her eagerness to 
light the bubbling saccharine substance and to 
watch the stirring-down, she leaned over a little 
too far and over went the lamp directly into the 
molasses. 

What consternation fell upon them! The 
very thought of the fish-oil was nauseating, and 
that was all the molasses. There was no candy- 
pulling, there being no grocery just around the 
corner where a fresh supply might be obtained, 
indeed molasses and syrup were very scarce ar- 
ticles, brought from a great distance. 

The guests departed, doubtless realizing 

[142] 



PIONEER CHILD LIFE. 

that the "best laid plans * * * gang aft 
agley." 

The climate of Puget Sound is one so mild 
that snow seldom falls and ice rarely forms as 
thick as windowglass, consequently travel, traf- 
fic and amusement are scarcely modified during 
the winter, or more correctly, the rainy season. 
Unless it rained more energetically than usual,, 
the children went on with their games as in sum- 
mer. 

The long northern twilight of the summer- 
time and equally long evenings in winter had 
each their special charm. 

The pictures of winter scenes in eastern 
magazines and books looked strange and unfa- 
miliar to us, but as one saucy girl said to a ten- 
derfoot from a blizzard-swept state, "We see 
more and deeper snow everyday than you ever 
saw in your life." 

' ' How is that ? ' ' said he. 

"On Mount Rainier," she answered, laugh- 
ing. 

Even so, this magnificent mountain, together 
with many lesser peaks, wears perpetual robes 
of snow in sight of green and blooming shores. 

When it came to decorating for Christmas, 
well, we had a decided advantage as the ever- 
greens stood thick about us, millions of them. 
Busy fingers made lavish use of rich garlands 
of cedar to festoon whole buildings; handsome 
Douglas firs, reaching from floor to ceiling, load- 

..... [143] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

ed with gay presents and blazing with tapers, 
made the little " clam-diggers' " eyes glisten and 
their mouths water. In the garden the flowers 
bloomed often in December and January, as 
many as twenty-six varieties at once. 

One New Year's day I walked down the gar- 
den path and plucked a fine, red rosebud to dec- 
orate the New Year's cake. 

The pussy-willows began the floral proces- 
sion of wildlings in January and the trilliums 
and currants were not far behind unless a "cold 
snap" came on in February and the flowers dozed 
on, for they never seem to sleep very profoundly 
here. By the middle of February there was, 
occasionally, a general display of bloom, but 
more frequently it began about the first of 
March, the seasons varying considerably. 

The following poem tells of favorite flow- 
ers gathered in the olden time "i' the spring o' 
the year!" 

In the summertime we had work as well as 
play, out of doors. The garden surrounding our 
cottage in 1863, overflowed with fruits, vege- 
tables and flowers. Nimble young fingers were 
made useful in helping to tend them. Weeding 
beds of spring onions and lettuce, sticking peas 
and beans, or hoeing potatoes, were considered 
excellent exercise for young muscles; no need 
of physical "culchuah" in the school had dawned 
upon us, as periods of work and rest, study and 
play, followed each other in healthful succession. 

[144] 




A VISIT PROM OUR TILLICUM 



PIONEER CHILD LIFE. 

Having a surplus of good things, the chil- 
dren often went about the village with fresh 
vegetables and flowers, more often the latter, 
generous bouquets of fragrant and spicy roses 
and carnations, sweet peas and nasturtiums, to 
sell. Two little daughters in pretty, light print 
dresses and white hats were flower girls who 
were treated like little queens. 

There was no disdain of work to earn a liv- 
ing in those days ; every respectable person did 
something useful. 

For recreation, we went with father in the 
wagon over the " bumpy" road when he went to 
haul wood, or perhaps a long way on the county 
road to the meadow, begging to get off to gather 
flowers whenever we saw them peeping from 
their green bowers. 

Driving along through the great forest 
which stood an almost solid green wall on either 
hand, we called "O father, stop! stop; here is 
the lady-slipper place." 

"Well, be quick, I can't wait long." 

Dropping down to the ground, we ran as fast 
as our feet could carry us to gather the lovely, 
fragrant orchid, Calypso Borealis, from its mos- 
sy bed. 

When the ferns were fully grown, eight or 
ten feet high, the little girls broke down as many 
as they could drag, and ran along the road, great 
ladies, with long green trains ! 

We found the way to the opening in the 

6- [145] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

woods, where in the midst thereof, grandfather 
sat making cedar shingles with a drawing knife. 
Huge trees lay on the ground, piles of bolts had 
been cut and the heap of shingles, clear and 
straight of the very best quality, grew apace. 

Very tall and grand the firs and cedars stood 
all around, like stately pillars with a dome of 
blue sky above ; the birds sang in the underbrush 
and the brown butterflies floated by. 

Among all the beautiful things, there was 
one to rivet the eye and attention ; a dark green 
fir tree, perhaps thirty feet high, around whose 
trunk and branches a wild honeysuckle vine had 
twined itself from the ground to the topmost 
twig. 

It had the appearance of a giant candela- 
brum, with the orange-scarlet blossoms that tip- 
ped the boughs like jets of flame. 

Many a merry picnic we had in blackberry 
time, taking our lunch with us and spending the 
day; sometimes in an Indian canoe we paddled 
off several miles, to Smith's Cove or some other 
likely place. 

It was necessary to watch the tide at the 
Cove or the shore could not be reached across the 
mudflat. 

Once ashore how happy we were; clamber- 
ing about over the hills, gathering the ripe fruit, 
now and then turning about to gaze at the snowy 
sentinel in the southern sky, grand old Mount 
Rainier. 

[146] 



PIONEER CHILD LIFE. 

How wide the sparkling waters of the bay ! 
the sky so pure and clear, the north wind so cool 
and refreshing. The plumy boughs stirred gent- 
ly overhead and shed for us the balsamic odors, 
the flowers waved a welcome at our feet. 

In the winter there was seldom any " frost 
on the rills" or "snow on the hills," but when it 
did come the children made haste to get all the 
possible fun out of the unusual pastime of coast- 
ing. Mothers were glad when the Chinook wind 
came and ate up the snow and brought back the 
ordinary conditions, as the children were fre- 
quently sick during a cold spell. 

Now the tenderfoot, as the new-comer is call- 
ed in the west, is apt to be mistaken about the 
Chinook wind ; there is a wet south wind and a 
dry south wind on Puget Sound. The Chinook, 
as the " natives" have known it, is a dry wind, 
clears the sky, and melts and dries up the snow 
at once. Wet south wind, carrying heavy rain 
often follows after snow, and slush reigns for a 
few days. Perhaps this is a distinction without 
much difference. 

Storms rarely occur, I remember but two 
violent ones in which the gentle south wind 
seemed to forget its nature and became a raging 
gale. 

The first occured when I was a small child. 
The wind had been blowing for some time, grad- 
ually increasing in the evening, and as night 
advanced becoming heavier every hour. Large 

[147] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

stones were taken up from the high bank on the 
bay and piled on the roof with limbs broken from 
tough fir trees. Thousands of giant trees fell 
crashing and groaning to the ground, like a con- 
tinuous cannonade ; the noise was terrific and we 
feared for our lives. 

At midnight, not daring to leave the house, 
and yet fearing that it might be overthrown, 
we knelt and commended ourselves to Him who 
rules the storm. 

About one o'clock the storm abated and 
calmly and safely we lay down to sleep. 

The morning broke still and clear, but many 
a proud monarch of the forest lay prone upon the 
ground. 

Electric storms were very infrequent; if 
there came a few claps of thunder the children 
exclaimed, "O mother, hear the thunder storm!" 

"Well, children, that isn't much of a thun- 
der storm; you just ought to hear the thunder 
in Illinois, and the lighting was a continual 
blaze." 

Our mother complained that we were scarce- 
ly enough afraid of snakes ; as there are no dead- 
ly reptiles on Puget Sound, we thrust our hands 
into the densest foliage or searched the thick 
grass without dread of a lurking enemy. 

The common garter snake, a short, thick 
snake, whose track across the dusty roads I have 
seen, a long lead-colored snake and a small brown 
one, comprise the list known to us. 

[148] 



PIONEER CHILD LIFE. 

Walking along a narrow trail one summer 
day, singing as I went, the song was abruptly 
broken, I sprang to one side with remarkable 
agility, a long, wiggling thing " swished" through 
the grass in an opposite direction. Calling for 
help, I armed myself with a club, and with my 
support, boldly advanced to seek out the ser- 
pent. When discovered we belabored it so earn- 
estly that its head was well-night severed from 
its body. 

It was about five feet long, the largest I had 
even seen, whether poisonous or not is beyond 
my knowledge. 

There are but two spiders known to be dan- 
gerous, a white one and a small black "crab" 
spider. A little girl acquaintance was bitten by 
one of these, it was supposed, though not posi- 
tively known ; the bite was on the upper arm and 
produced such serious effects that a large piece 
of flesh had to be removed by the surgeon's knife 
and amputation was narrowly escaped. , 

A mysterious creature inhabiting Lake 
Union sometimes poisoned the young bathers. 
One of my younger brothers was bitten on the 
knee, and a lameness ensued, which continued 
for several months. There was only a small 
puncture visible with a moderate swelling, which 
finally passed away. 

The general immunity from danger extends 
to the vegetable world, but very few plants are 

[149] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

unsafe to handle, chief among them being the 
Panax horridum or " devil's club." 

So the happy pioneer children roamed the 
forest fearlessly and sat on the vines and moss 
under the great trees, often making bonnets of 
the shining salal leaves pinned together with 
rose thorns or tiny twigs, making whistles of 
alder, which gave forth sweet and pleasant 
sounds if successfully made; or in the garden 
making dolls of hollyhocks, mallows and morn- 
ing glories. 



[150] 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Marching Experiences of Esther Chambers. 

The following thrilling account, written by 
herself and first published in the " Weekly 
Ledger" of Tacoma, Washington, of June 3, 
1892, is to be highly commended for its clear 
and forcible style : 

"My father, William Packwood, left Mis- 
souri in the spring of 1844 with my mother and 
four children in an ox team to cross the plains to 
Oregon. 

My mother's health was very poor when we 
started. She had to be helped in and out of the 
wagon, but the change by traveling improved her 
health so much that she gained a little every day, 
and in the course of a month or six weeks she was 
able to get up in the morning and cook break- 
fast, while my father attended his team and did 
other chores. I had one sister older than my- 
self, and I was only six years old. My little sis* 
ter and baby brother, who learned to walk by 
rolling the water keg as we camped nights and 
mornings, were of no help to my sick mother. 

The company in which we started was Cap- 
tain Gilliam's and we traveled quite a way when 
we joined Captain Ford's company, making up- 
ward of sixty wagons in all. 

Our company was so large that the Indians 

[151] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

did not molest us, although we, after letting our 
stock feed until late in the evening, had formed 
a large corral of the wagons, in which we drove 
the cattle and horses, and stood guard at night, 
as the Indians had troubled small companies by 
driving off their stock, but they were not at all 
hostile to us. 

We came to a river and camped. The next 
morning we were visited by Indians, who seemed 
to want to see us children, so we were terribly 
afraid of the Indians, and, as father drove in the 
river to cross, the oxen got frightened at the In- 
dians and tipped the wagon over, and father 
jumped and held the wagon until help came. We 
thought the Indians would catch us, so we 
jumped to the lower part of the box, where there 
was about six inches of water. The swim and 
fright I will never forget — the Indian fright, 
of course. 

I was quite small but I do remember the 
beautiful scenery. We could see antelope, deer, 
rabbits, sage hens and coyotes, etc., and in the 
camp we children had a general good time. All 
joined at night in the plays. One night Mr. Jen- 
kins' boys told me to ask their father for his 
sheath knife to cut some sticks with. When us- 
ing it on the first stick, I cut my lef thand fore- 
finger nail and all off, except a small portion 
of the top of my finger, and the scar is still 
visible. 

On another evening we children were hav- 

[152] 



ESTHER CHAMBERS' EXPERIENCES. 

ing a nice time, when a boy by the name of Steph- 
en, who had been in the habit of hugging around 
the children's shoulders and biting them, hugged 
me and bit a piece almost out of my shoulder. 
This was the first time I remember seeing my 
father's wrath rise on the plains, as he was a 
very even-tempered man. He said to the offend- 
ing boy, "If you do that again, I shall surely 
whip you." 

A few days later we came to a stream that 
was deep but narrow. Mr. Stephens, this boy's 
father, was leading a cow by a rope tied around 
his waist and around the cow's head for the pur- 
pose of teaching the rest of the cattle to swim. 
The current being very swift, washed the cow 
down the stream, dragging the man. The wom- 
en and children were all crying at a great rate, 
when one of the party went to Mrs. Stephens, 
saying, "Mr. Stephens is drowning." "Well," 
she replied, "there is plenty of more men where 
he came from." Mr. Stephens, his cow and all 
lodged safely on a drift. They got him out safe- 
ly, but he did not try to swim a stream with a 
cow tied to his waist again. 

We could see the plains covered with buffalo 
as we traveled along, just like the cattle of our 
plains are here. 

One day a band of buffalo came running to- 
ward us, and one jumped between the wheel cat- 
tle and the wheels of the wagon, and we came 
very near having a general stampede of the cat- 
6a- [153] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

tie ; so when the teamsters got their teams quieted 
down, the men, gathering their guns, ran and 
killed three of the buffalo, and all of the com- 
pany were furnished with dried beef, which was 
fine for camping. 

We came to a place where there was a boil- 
ing spring that would cook eggs, and a short dis- 
tance from this was a cold, clear spring, and a 
short distance from this was a heap of what 
looked like ashes, and when we crossed it the 
catties' feet burned until they bawled. Another 
great sight I remember of seeing was an oil 
spring. 

Then we reached the Blue Mountains. Snow 
fell as we traveled through them. 

We then came down in the Grande Ronde 
valley, and it seemed as if we had reached a 
paradise. It was a beautiful valley. Here In- 
dians came to trade us dried salmon, la camas 
cakes and dried crickette cakes. We traded for 
some salmon and the la camas cakes, but the 
crickette cakes we did not hanker after. 

A man in one train thought he would fool an 
Indian chief, so he told the Indian he would 
swop his girl sixteen years old, for a couple of 
horses. The bargain was made and he took the 
horses, and the Indian hung around until near 
night. When the captain of the company found 
out that the Indian was waiting for his girl to go 
with him, the captain told the man that we might 
all be killed through him, and made him give up 

[154] 



ESTHER CHAMBERS' EXPERIENCES. 

the horses to the chief. The Indian chief was 
real mad as he took the horses away. 

We went on down to The Dalles, where we 
stopped a few days. There was a mission at The 
Dalles where two missionaries lived, Brewer and, 
Waller. We emigrants traded some of our poor, 
tired cattle off to them for some of their fat 
beef, and some coarse flour chopped on a hand 
mill, like what we call chop-feed nowadays. 

Then we had to make a portage around the 
falls, and the women and children walked. I 
don't remember the distance, but we walked un- 
til late at night, and waded in the mud knee- 
deep, and my mother stumped her toe and fell 
against a log or she might have gone down into 
the river. We little tots fell down in the mud 
until you'd have thought we were pigs. 

The men drove around the falls another 
way, and got out of provisions. 

My father, seeing a boat from the high 
bluffs, going down to the river hailed it, and 
when he came down to the boat he found us. He 
said he had gotten so hungry that he killed a 
crow and ate it, and thought it tasted splendid. 
He took provisions to the cattle drivers and we 
came on down the river to Fort Vancouver. It 
rained on us for a week and our bedclothes were 
drenched through and through, so at night we 
would open our bed of wet clothes and cuddle in 
them as though we were in a palace car, and all 
kept well and were not sick a day in all of our 

[155] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

six months' journey crossing the plains. My 
mother gained and grew fleshy and strong. 

Next we arrived in what is now the city 
of Portland, which then consisted of a log cabin 
and a few shanties. We stayed there a few days 
to dry our bedding. 

Then we moved out to the Taulatin Plains, 
where we wintered in a barn, with three other 
families, each family having a corner of the barn, 
with fire in the center and a hole in the roof for 
the smoke to go out. My father went to work 
for a man by the name of Baxton, as all my 
father was worth in money, I think, was twen- 
ty-five cents, or something like that. He ar- 
rived with a cow, calf and three oxen, and had 
to support his family by mauling rails in the 
rain, to earn the wheat, peas and potatoes we ate, 
as that was all we could get, as bread was out 
of the question. Shortly after father had gone 
to work my little brother had a rising on his 
cheek. It made him so sick that mother wanted 
us little tots to go to the place where my father 
was working. It being dark, we got out of our 
way and went to a man ,who had an Indian wom- 
an, by the name of Williams. In the plains there 
are swales that fill up with water when the heavy 
rains come, and they are knee deep. I fell in 
one of these, but we got to Mr. Williams all 
right. But when we found our neighbor we be- 
gan crying, so Mr. Williams persuaded us to 
come in and he would go and get father, which 

[156] 



ESTHER CHAMBERS > EXPERIENCES. 

he did, and father came home with us to our 
barn house. My little brother got better, and my 
father returned to his work again. 

Among the settlers on the Tualatin Plains 
were Mr. Lackriss, Mr. Burton, Mr. Williams 
and General McCarver, who had settled on farms 
before we came, and many a time did we go to 
their farms for greens and turnips, which were 
something new and a great treat to us. 

Often the Indians used to frighten us 
with their war dances, as we called them, as we 
did not know the nature of Indians, so, as Gen- 
eral McCarver was used to them, we often asked 
him if the Indians were having a war dance for 
the purpose of hostility. He told us, that was 
the way they doctored their sick. 

General McCarver settled in Tacoma when 
the townsite was first laid out and is well known. 
He died in Tacoma, leaving a family. 

After we moved out to the Tualatin Plains, 
many a night when father was away we lay 
awake listening to the dogs barking, thinking the 
Indians were coming to kill us, and when father 
came home I felt safe and slept happily. 

In the spring of 1845 my father took a nice 
place in West Yamhill, about two miles from 
the Willamette River and we had some settlers 
around, but our advantage for a school was 
poor, as we were too far from settlers to have 
a school, so my education, what little I have, was 
gotten by punching the cedar fire and studying 

[157] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

at night, but, however, we were a happy family, 
hoping to accumulate a competency in our new 
home. 

One dog, myself and elder sister and brother 
were carrying water from our spring, which was 
a hundred yards or more from our house, when 
a number of Indians came along. We were 
afraid of them and all hid. I hid by the trail, 
when an old Indian, seeing me, yelled out, 
"Adeda!" and I began to laugh, but my sister 
was terribly frightened and yelled at me to hide, 
so they found all of us, but they were friendly 
to us, only a wretched lot to steal, as they stole 
the only cow we had brought through, leaving 
the calf with us without milk. 

My father was quite a hunter, and deer were 
plenty, and once in a while he would get one, so 
we did get along without milk. During the first 
year we could not get bread, as there were no 
mills or places to buy flour. A Canadian put up 
a small chop mill and chopped wheat something' 
like feed is chopped now. 

My father being a jack-of -all-trades, set to 
work and put up a turning lathe and went to 
making chairs, and my mother and her little tots 
took the straw from the sheaves and braided and 
made hats. We sold the chairs and hats and 
helped ourselves along in every way we could 
and did pretty well. 

One day, while my father's lathe was run- 
ning, some one yelled "Stop!" A large black 

[158] 



ESTHER CHAMBERS' EXPERIENCES. 

bear was walking through the yard. The men 
gave him a grand chase, but bruin got away from 
them. 

My father remained on this place until the 
spring of 1847, when he and a number of other 
families decided to move to Puget Sound. Dur- 
ing that winter they dug two large canoes, lashed 
them together as a raft or flatboat to move on, 
and sold out their places, bought enough provi- 
sions to last that summer, and loading up with 
their wagons, families and provisions, started 
for Puget Sound. 

Coming up the Cowlitz River was a hard 
trip, as the men had to tow the raft over rapids 
and wade. The weather was very bad. Arriv- 
ing at was was called the Cowlitz Landing we 
stayed a few days and moved out to the Cath- 
olic priest's place (Mr. Langlay's) where the 
women and children remained while the men 
went back to Oregon for our stock. They had 
to drive up the Cowlitz River by a trail, and swim 
the rivers. My father said it was a hard trip. 

On arriving at Puget Sound we found a 
good many settlers. Among them, now living 
that I know of, was Jesse Ferguson, on 
Bush Prairie. We stayed near Mr. Ferguson's 
place until my father, McAllister and Shager, 
who lives in Olympia, took them to places in the 
Nisqually bottoms. My father's place then, is 
now owned by Isaac Hawk. 

Mr. McAllister was killed in the Indian war 

[159] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

of 1855-6, leaving a family of a number of chil- 
dren, of whom one is Mrs. Grace Hawk. The 
three families living in the bottom were often 
frightened by the saucy Indians telling us to 
leave, as the King George men told them to make 
us go, so on one occasion there came about 300 
Indians in canoes. They were painted and had 
knives, and said they wanted to kill a chief that 
lived by us by the name of Quinasapam. When 
he saw the warriors coming he came into our 
house for protection, and all of the Indians who 
could do so came in after him. Mr. Shager and 
father gave them tobacco to smoke. So they 
smoked and let the chief go and took their de- 
parture. If there were ever glad faces on this 
earth and free hearts, ours were at that time. 

My father and Mr. McAllister took a job 
of bursting up old steamboat boilers for Dr. Tol- 
mie for groceries and clothing, and between their 
improving their farms they worked at this. 
While they were away the Indians' dogs were 
plenty, and, like wolves, they ran after every- 
thing, including our only milch cow, and she 
died, so there was another great loss to us, but 
after father got through with the old boilers, he 
took another job of making butter firkins for Dr. 
Tolmie and shingles also. This was a great help 
to the new settlers. The Hudson Bay Company 
was very kind to settlers. 

In 1849 the gold fever began to rage and 
my father took the fever. I was standing before 

[160] 



ESTHER CHAMBERS' EXPERIENCES. 

the fire, listening to my mother tell about it, 
when my dress caught fire, and my mother and 
Mrs. Shager got the fire extinguished, when I 
found my hair was off on one side of my head 
and my dress missing. I felt in luck to save my 
life. 

In the spring of 1850 all arrangements were 
made for the California gold mines and we 
started by land in an ox team. We went back 
through Oregon and met our company in Yam- 
hill, where we had lived. They joined our com- 
pany of about thirty wagons. Portions of our 
journey were real pleasant, but the rest was ter- 
ribly rough. In one canyon we crossed a stream 
seventy-five times in one day, and it was the most 
unpleasant part of our journey. 

After two months' travel we arrived in Sac- 
ramento City, Cal., and found it tolerably warm 
for us, not being used to a warm climate. 

Father stayed in California nearly twq 
years. Our fortune was not a large one. We 
returned by sea to Washington and made our 
home in the Nisqually Bottom. 

On April 30, 1854, I was married to a man 
named Gr. W. T. Allen and lived with him on 
Whidby Island seven years, during which time 
four children were born. We finally agreed to 
disagree. Only one of our children by my first 
husband is living. She is Mrs. L. L. Andrews of 
Tacoma, Washington. He is in the banking bus- 
iness. On July 7, 1863, I was married to my 

[161] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

present husband, McLain Chambers. We have 
lived in Washington ever since. We have had 
nine children. Our oldest, a son, I. M. Cham- 
bers, lives on a farm near Roy, Wash. Others 
are married and live at Roy, Yelm and Stam- 
pede. We have two little boys at home. Have 
lost three within the last three years. We live a 
mile and a half southeast of Roy, Wash. 

I have lived here through all the hostilities 
of the war. Dr. Tolmie sent wagons to haul us 
to the fort for safety. My present husband was 
a volunteer and came through with a company 
of scouts, very hungry. They were so hungry 
that when they saw my mother take a pan of bis- 
cuits from the stove, one of them saying, " Ex- 
cuse me, but we are almost starved," grabbed the 
biscuits from the pan, eating like a hungry dog. 

I suppose you have heard of the murder of 
Col. I. N. Ebey of Whidby Island? He was be- 
headed by the Northern or Port Simpson In- 
dians and his family and George Corliss and his 
wife made their escape from the house by climb- 
ing out of the windows, leaving even their clothes 
and bushwhacking it until morning. I was on 
Whidby Island about seven miles from where he 
was killed, that same night, alone with my little 
girl, now Mrs. Andrews. When one of our 
neighbors called at the gate and said, " Colonel 
Ebey was beheaded last night," I said " Captain 
Barrington, it cannot be, as I have been staying 
here so close by alone without being disturbed." 

[162] 



ESTHER CHAMBERS' EXPERIENCES. 

Shortly after the Indians came armed, and one 
of them came up to me, shaking a large knife in 
his hand saying, "Iskum mika tenas and klatawa 
copa stick or we will kill you. ' ' I said to him, ■ i I 
don't understand; come and go to the field where 
my husband and an Indian boy are," but they 
refused to go and left me soon. I started for the 
field with my child, and the further I went the 
more scared I got until when I reached my hus,- 
band, I cried like a child. He ran to the house 
and sent a message to the agent on the reserva- 
tion, but they skipped out of his reach, and never 
bothered me again, but I truly suffered as though 
I were sick, although I stayed alone with a boy 
eight or nine years old." 

"a boy of seven who came to show his father 

THE WAY." 

In the same columns with the preceding 
sketch appeared R. A. Bundy's story of his ju- 
venile adventures : 

"I will try to give an account of my trip 
crossing the plains in the pioneer days. You 
need not expect a flowery story, as you will ob- 
serve before I get through. The chances for an 
education in those days were quite different from 
what they are today. Here goes with my story, 
anyway : 

My father left his old home in the State of 
Illinois in the month of April in the year 1865. 
As I was a lad not seven years of age until the 

[163] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

27th of the month, of course I was obliged to go 
along to show the old man the way. 

We were already to start, and a large num- 
ber of others that were going in the same train 
had gathered at our place. There were also 
numerous relatives present to bid us good-bye, 
and warn us of the big undertaking we were 
about to embark in, and tell of the dangers we 
would encounter. But a lad of my age always 
thinks it is a great thing to go along with a cov- 
ered wagon, especially if "pap" is driving. I 
crawled right in and did not apprehend any- 
thing dangerous or wearisome about a short trip 
like that. I will have to omit dates and camping 
places, as I was too young to pay any attention 
to such things; and you may swear that I was 
always around close. Everything went along 
smoothly with me for a short time. Riding in 
a covered wagon was a picnic, but my father's 
team was composed of both horses and cattle, 
and the oxen soon became tenderf ooted and had 
to be turned loose and driven behind the wag- 
ons. 

About this time A. L. McCauley, whose ac 
count of the trip has appeared in the "Ledger," 
fell in with the train. He thought himself a 
brave man and as he had had a "right smart" 
experience in traveling, especially since the war 
broke out, and was used to going in the lead and 
had selected a great many safe camping places 
for himself during that time, the men thought he 

[164] 



ESTHER CHAMBERS' EXPERIENCES. 

would be a good man to hide from the Indians, 
so he was elected captain. He went ahead and 
showed my old man the way. I being now re- 
lieved of this responsibility, stayed behind the 
train and drove the tenderfooted oxen. When 
McCauley found a camping place I always 
brought up the rear. 

That was not quite so much of a picnic as 
some of us old-timers have nowadays at Shilo. I 
found out after driving oxen a few days, that I 
was going "with" the old man. 

For a week or two my job was not as bad 
as some who have never tried it might imagine. 
But six months of travel behind the wagons 
barefooted, over sagebrush, sand toads, hot sand 
and gravel, rattlesnakes, prickly pears, etc., 
made me sometimes wish I had gone back home 
when the old dog did, or that "pap" had sold 
me at the sale with the other property. In spite 
of my disagreeable situation, however, I kept 
trudging alone, bound to stay with the crowd. 
I thought my lot was a rough one when I saw 
other boys older than myself riding and occa- 
sionally walking just for pleasure. I could not 
see where the fun came in, and thought that if 
the opportunity was offered I could stand it to 
ride all the time. I thought I had the disadvan- 
tage until the Indians got all the stock. 

I remember one night that our famous cap- 
tain said he had found us a good, safe camping 
place. The next morning the people were all 

[165] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

right but the horses and cattle were all gone. 
For a while it looked like the whole train would 
have to walk. I did not care so much for myself 
but I thought it would be hard on those that 
were not used to it. 

During the day the men got a part of the 
horses back, and I was feeling pretty good, think- 
ing the rest would get to ride, but along in the 
afternoon my joyful mood was suddenly 
changed. All the men, excepting a few on the 
sick list, were out after the stock, when the cap- 
tain and some other men came running into camp 
as fast as their horses could carry them. The 
captain got off his horse, apparently almost 
scared to death. He told the women that they 
would never see their men again; that the In- 
dians were coming from every direction. That 
was in the Wood River country, and it made mQ 
feel pretty bad after walking so far. We were 
all frightened, and some boys and myself found 
a hiding place in a wagon. We got under a 
feather bed and waited, expecting every minute 
that the Indians would come. They did not come 
so we came out and found that the captain was 
feeling rather weak and had laid down to have a 
rest. Shortly after we came out, one of the men 
came in leading an Indian pony. It was then 
learned that the captain and some of the men 
with him had been running from some of the 
men belonging to the train, thinking they were 
Indians. They found all their horses but two 

[166] 



ESTHER CHAMBERS' EXPERIENCES. 

and captured two Indian ponies. The next day 
we journeyed on and I felt more like walking, 
knowing that the others could ride. We did 
not meet with any other difficulty that seriously 
attracted my attention. 

We arrived on the Touchet at Waitsburg 
in October or November, and don't you forget it, 
I had spent many a hot, tiresome day, having 
walked all the way across the plains." 



[167] 



CHAPTER IX 

AN OLYMPIA WOMAN'S TKIP ACROSS THE PLAINS IN 

1851. 

Mrs. C. J. Crosby of Olympia, Washington, 
contributes this narrative of her personal exper- 
ience, to the literature of the Northwest: 

"It was in the early spring of '51 that my 
father took the emigrant fever to come West, to 
what was then termed Oregon Territory, and get 
some of Uncle Sam's land which was donated to 
any one who had the perseverance and courage 
to travel six long weary months, through a wild, 
savage country with storms and floods as well as 
the terrible heat and dust of summer to contend 
against. Our home was in Covington, Indiana, 
and my father, Jacob Smith, with his wife and 
five children, myself being the eldest, started 
from there the 24th day of March for a town call- 
ed Council Bluffs on the Missouri Eiver, where 
all the emigrants bought their supplies for their 
long journey in the old time prairie schooner. 
Our train was composed of twenty-four wagons 
and a good number of people. A captain was 
selected, whose duty it was to ride ahead of the 
train and find good camping place for the day or 
night, where there was plenty of wood, water 
and grass. 

The first part of our journey we encoun- 

[168] 



AN OLYMPIA WOMAN'S TRIP. 

tered terrible floods, little streams would sud* 
denly become raging torrents and we were 
obliged to cross them in hasty-constructed boats ; 
two incidents I distinctly remember. 

We had traveled all day and in the evening 
came to a stream called the Elk Horn, where we 
had some trouble and only part of the train 
crossed that night — we were among the num- 
ber; well, we got something to eat as best we 
could, and being very tired all went to bed as 
early as possible ; the river was a half mile from 
where we camped, but in the night it overflowed 
and the morning found our wagons up to the 
hubs in water, our cooking utensils floating off 
on the water, except those that had gone to the 
bottom, and all the cattle had gone off to find dry 
ground, and for a while things in general looked 
very discouraging. However, the men started 
out at daylight in search of the stray cattle, soon 
found them and hitched them to the wagons and 
started for another camping place, and to wait 
until we were joined by those who were left be- 
hind the night before. We all rejoiced to leave 
that river as soon as possible, but not many days 
expired before we came to another river which 
was worse than the first one — it was exceedingly 
high and very swift, but by hard work and perse- 
verance they got all the wagons across the river 
without any accident, with the exception of my 
father's, which was the last to cross. They got 
about half way over when the provision wagon 

[169] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

slid off the boat and down the river it went. 
Well, I can hardily imagine how any one could 
understand our feelings unless they had experi- 
enced such a calamity; to see all the provisions 
we had in the world floating away before our 
eyes and not any habitation within many hun- 
dred miles of us ; for a while we did indeed feel 
as though the end had come this time sure. We 
could not retrace our footsteps, or go forward 
without provisions; each one in the train had 
only enough for their own consumption and dare 
not divide with their best friend ; however, while 
they were debating what was best to do, our 
wagon had landed on a sandbar and the men 
waded out and pulled it ashore. It is needless 
for me to say there was great rejoicing in 
the camp that day ; of course, nearly everything 
in the wagon was wet, but while in camp they 
were dried out. Fortunately the flour was sealed 
up in tin cans ; the corn meal became sour before 
it got dry, but it had to be used just the same. 
In a few days we were in our usual spirits, but 
wondering what new trials awaited us, and it 
came all too soon; the poor cattle all got pois- 
oned from drinking alkali water; at first they 
did not know what to do for them, but finally 
someone suggested giving them fat bacon, which 
brought them out all right in a day or two. Then 
their feet became very sore from constant travel- 
ing and thorns from the cactus points, and we 

[170] 



AN OLYMPIA WOMAN'S TEIP. 

would be obliged to remain in camp several days 
for them to recruit. 

As we proceeded farther on our way we be- 
gan to fear the Indians, and occasionally met 
strolling bands of them all decked out with bows 
and arrows, their faces hideous with paint and 
long feathers sticking in their top-knots, they 
looked very fierce and savage ; they made us un- 
derstand we could not travel through their coun- 
try unless we paid them. So the men gave them 
some tobacco, beads and other trinkets, but would 
not give them any ammunition ; they went away 
angry and acted as though they would give us 
trouble. 

Some of the men stood guard every night 
to protect the camp as well as the horses and 
cattle, as they would drive them off in the night 
and frequently kill them. 

Thus we traveled from day to day, ever 
anxious and on the lookout for a surprise from 
some ambush by the wayside, they were so 
treacherous, but kind Providence protected us 
and we escaped the fate of the unfortunate emi- 
grants who preceded us. 

Fortunately there was but little sickness in 
our train and only one death, that of my little 
brother ; he was ill about two weeks and we never 
knew the cause of his death. At first it seemed 
an impossibility to go away and leave him alone 
by the wayside, and what could we do without a 
coffin and not any boards to make one % A trunk 

[171] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

was thought of and the little darling was laid 
away in that. The grave had to be very deep 
so the wild animals could not dig up the body, 
and the Indians would plunder the graves, too, 
so it was made level with the ground. We felt 
it a terrible affliction; it seemed indeed the cli- 
max of all we had endured. It was with sad 
hearts we once again resumed our toilsome jour- 
ney. 

We saw the bones of many people by the 
wayside, bleaching in the sun, and it was ever a 
constant reminder of the dear little one that was 
left in the wilderness. However, I must not 
dwell too long over this dark side of the picture, 
as there was much to brighten and cheer us many 
times ; there were many strange, beautiful things 
which were a great source of delight and wonder, 
especially the boiling springs, the water so hot 
it would cook anything, and within a short dis- 
tance springs of ice water, and others that made 
a noise every few minutes like the puffing of a 
steamer. Then there were rocks that resembled 
unique old castles, as they came into view in the 
distance. All alone in the prairie was one great 
rock called Independence Eock; it was a mile 
around it, half a mile wide and quite high in 
some places; there were hundreds of emigrants' 
names and dates carved on the side of the rock 
as high as they could reach. It reminded one of 
a huge monument. I wonder if old Father Time 
has effaced all the names yet ? 

[172] 



AN OLYMPIA WOMAN'S TEIP. 

In the distance we saw great herds of buf- 
falo and deer ; the graceful, swift-footed antelope 
was indeed a sight to behold, and we never grew 
tired of the lovely strange flowers we found along 
the road. 

The young folks, as well as the old, had their 
fun and jokes, and in the evening all would 
gather 'round the campfire, telling stories and 
relating the trials and experiences each one had 
encountered during the day, or meditating what 
the next day would bring forth of weal or woe. 
Thus the months and days passed by, and our 
long journey came to an end when we reached 
the Dalles on the Columbia River, where we em- 
barked on the small steamer that traveled down 
the river and landed passengers and freight at 
a small place called the Cascades. At this place 
there was a portage of a half mile ; then we trav- 
eled on another steamer and landed in Portland 
the last day of October, the year 1851, remained 
there during the winter and in the spring of 
1852 came to Puget Sound with a number of 
others who were anxious for some of Uncle 
Sam's land. 

Olympia, a very small village, was the only 
town on the Sound except Fort Steilacoom, 
where a few soldiers were stationed. We spent a 
short time in Olympia before going to Whidby 
Island, where my father settled on his claim, and 
we lived there five years, when we received a 
patent from the government, but before our home 

[173] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

was completed lie had the misfortune to break 
his arm, and, not being properly set, he was a 
cripple the remainder of his life. 

In 1852 there were a couple of log houses 
at Alki Point, occupied by Mr. Denny and oth- 
ers; they called the "town" New York. We 
went ashore from the schooner and visited 
them. ' ' 

To the above properly may be added an ac- 
count published in a Seattle paper: 

"Mrs. C. J. Crosby, of Olympia, gives the 
following interesting sketch of her early days 
on Whidby Island: 

"As I am an old settler and termed a moss- 
back by those who have come later, I feel urged 
to relate a few facts pertaining to my early life 
on Whidby Island in the days of 1852. My 
father, Jacob Smith, with his wife and five chil- 
dren, crossed the plains the year of 1851. We 
started from Covington, Indiana, on the 24th day 
of March and arrived in Portland, Oregon, the 
last day of October. 

"We remained there during the winter, com- 
ing to Olympia the spring of 1852, where we 
spent a short time before going down to the 
island. My father settled on a claim near Pen's 
Cove, and almost opposite what is now called 
Coupeville. We lived there five years, when he 
sold his claim to Capt. Swift for three thousand 
five hundred dollars and we returned to Olympia. 

"The year '52 we found several families 

[174] 



AN OLYMPIA WOMAN'S TEIP. 

living on the island; also many bachelors who 
had settled on claims. I have heard my mother 
say she never saw the face of a white woman for 
nine months. My third sister was the second 
white child born on the island. I remember once 
we did not have any flour or bread for six weeks 
or more. We lived on potatoes, salmon and 
clams. Finally a vessel came in the Sound bring- 
ing some, but the price per barrel was forty-five 
dollars and it was musty and sour. Mother 
mixed potatoes with the flour so that we could 
eat it at all, and also to make it last a long time. 

" There is also another incident impressed 
on my memory that I never can forget. One 
morning an Indian came to the house with some 
fish oil to sell, that and tallow candles being the 
only kind of light we had in those days. She 
paid him all he asked for the oil, besides giving 
him a present, but he wanted more. He got very 
angry and said he would shoot her. She told 
him to shoot and took up the fire shovel to him. 
Meantime she told my brother to go to a neigh- 
bor's house, about half a mile distant, but before 
the men arrived the Indian cleared out. How- 
ever, had it not been for the kindness of the In- 
dians we would have suffered more than we did." 

Prom other published accounts I have culled 
the following: 

" Peter Smith crossed the plains in 1852 and 
settled near Portland. When it was known the 
Indians would make trouble, Mr. Smith, being 

[175] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

warned by a friendly Indian, took his family to 
Fort Steilacoom and joined the 'Home Guard/ 
but shortly afterward joined a company of 
militia and saw real war for three months. 

" Just before the hostilities in 1855, two In- 
dians visited his house. One of them was a mag- 
nificent specimen of physical manhood and chief 
of his tribe. They wanted something to eat. 
Now several settlers had been killed by Indians 
after gaining access to their houses, but, nothing 
daunted, Mrs. Smith went to work and prepared 
a very fine dinner, and Mr. S. made them sand- 
wiches for their game bag, putting on an extra 
allowance of sugar, and appeared to be as bold 
as a lion. He also accepted an invitation to visit 
their camp, which he did in their company, and 
formed a lasting friendship. 

"The mince, fruit and doughnuts did their 
good work. 

"During the war Mr. Smith had his neck 
merely bruised by a bullet. On his return home 
he found the Indians had been there before him 
and stolen his hogs and horses and destroyed his 
grain, a loss of eleven hundred dollars, for which 
he has never received any pay." 



[176] 



CHAPTER X. 

CAPT. HENKY BOEDER ON THE TRAIL. 

Capt. Boeder came by steamer to Portland 
and thence made his way to Olympia overland 
from the mouth of the Cowlitz River. This was 
in the winter of 1852. The story of this journey 
is best told in the words of the veteran pioneer 
himself, who has narrated his first experiences 
in the then Territory of Oregon as follows : 

"In company with R. V. Peabody, I traveled 
overland from the mouth of the Cowlitz, through 
the mud to Olympia. We started early in De- 
cember from Portland. It took us four days to 
walk from the Cowlitz River to Olympia, and 
it was as hard traveling as I have ever seen. 
Old residents will remember what was known as 
Sanders' Bottom. It was mud almost to your 
waist. We stopped one night with an old settler, 
whose name I cannot now recall, but whom we 
all called in those days 'Old Hardbread.' On 
the Skookumchuck we found lodging with Judge 
Ford, and on arriving at Olympia we put up 
with Mr. Sylvester, whose name is well known 
to all the old residents on the Sound. I remem- 
ber that at Olympia we got our first taste of the 
Puget Sound clam, and mighty glad we were, 
too, to get a chance to eat some of them. 

"From Olympia to Seattle we traveled by 

7- [177] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

Indian canoe. I remember distinctly rounding 
Alki Point and entering the harbor of Elliott 
Bay. I saw what was, perhaps, the first house 
that was built, where now stands the magnificent 
city of Seattle. This was a cabin that was being 
erected on a narrow strip of land jutting out 
into the bay, which is now right in the heart of 
Seattle. Dr. Maynard was the builder. It was 
situated adjoining the lot at Commercial and 
Main Streets, occupied by the old Arlington just 
before the fire of 1889. The waters of the Sound 
lapped the shores of the narrow peninsula upon 
which it was built, but since then the waters have 
been driven back by the filling of earth, sawdust 
and rock, which was put on both sides of the 
little neck of land. 

" After a few days' stay here, Peabody and 
I journeyed by Indian canoe to Whatcom. We 
carried our canoe overland to Hood Canal. On 
the second day out we encountered a terrible 
storm and put into shelter with a settler on the 
shore of the canal. His name was O 'Haver, and 
he lived with an Indian wife. We had white 
turnips and dried salmon for breakfast and dried 
salmon and white turnips for dinner. This bill 
of fare was repeated in this fashion for three 
days, and I want to tell you that we were glad 
when the weather moderated and we were en- 
abled to proceed. 

"We were told that we could procure some- 
thing in the edible line at Port Townsend, but 

[178] 



CAPTAIN BOEDER ON THE TRAIL. 

were disappointed. The best we could obtain at 
the stores was some hard bread, in which the 
worms had propagated in luxuriant fashion. 
This food was not so particularly appetizing, as 
you may imagine. A settler kindly took pity on 
us and shared his slender stock of food. Thence 
we journeyed to Whatcom, where I have resided 
nearly ever since." 

Capt. Roeder told also before he had finished 
his recital of an acquaintance he had formed in 
California with the noted Spanish murderer and 
bandit, Joaquin, and his tribe of cutthroats and 
robbers. Joaquin's raids and his long career 
in crime among the mining camps of the early 
days of California are part of the history of that 
state. Capt. Roeder was traveling horseback on 
one occasion between Marysville and Rush 
Creek. This was in 1851. The night before he 
left Marysville the sheriff and a posse had at- 
tempted to capture Joaquin and his band. The 
authorities had offered a reward of $10,000 for 
Joaquin and $5,000 for his men, dead or alive. 
The sheriff went out from Marysville with a 
cigar in his mouth and his sombrero on the side 
of his head, as if he were attending a picnic. It 
was his own funeral, however, instead of a picnic, 
for his body was picked out of a fence corner, 
riddled with bullets. 

"I was going at a leisurely gait over the 
mountain road or bridle path that led from 
Marysville to Rush Creek," said Capt. Roeder. 

[179] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

" Suddenly, after a bend in the road, I found 
myself in the midst of a band of men mounted 
on bronchos. They were dark-skinned and of 
Spanish blood. Immediately I recognized Joa- 
quin and ' Three-Fingered Jack,' his first lieu- 
tenant. My heart thumped vigorously, and I 
thought that it was all up with me. I managed 
somehow to control myself and did not evince 
any of the excitement I felt or give the outlaws 
any sign that I knew or suspected who they were. 

"One of the riders, after saluting me in 
Spanish, asked me where I was from and 
whither I was traveling. I told them freely and 
frankly, as if the occurrence were an every-day 
transaction. Learning that I had just come from 
Marysville, the seat of their last outrage, they 
inquired the news. I told them the truth — that 
the camp was in a state of great excitement, due 
to the late visit of the outlaw, Joaquin, and his 
band; that the sheriff had been murdered and 
three or four miners and others in the vicinity 
had been murdered and robbed. It was Joaquin's 
pleasant practice to lariat a man, rob him and 
cut his throat, leaving the body by the roadside. 
They asked me which way Joaquin had gone and 
I told them that he was seen last traveling to- 
wards Arizona. As a matter of fact, the outlaw 
and his band were then traveling in a direction 
exactly opposite from that which I had given. 

"My replies apparently pleased them. 
i Three-Fingered Jack' proposed a drink, after 

[180] 



CAPTAIN BOEDER ON THE TRAIL. 

asking me which way I traveled. I said, ' I would 
have proposed the compliment long ago had I 
any in my canteen, ' whereat Jack drew his own 
bottle and offered me a drink. 

"You may imagine my feelings then. I 
knew that if they believed I had recognized them 
they would give me poison or kill me with a knife. 
I took the canteen and drank from it. You may 
imagine my joy when I saw Jack lift the bottle 
to his lips and drain it. Then I knew that I had 
deceived them. We exchanged adieus in Span- 
ish, and that is the last I saw of Joaquin and his 
associate murderers.' ' 



[181] 



PART II. 

MEN, WOMEN AND ADVENTURES 



CHAPTER I. 



SONG OF THE PIONEERS. 

With faith's clear eye we saw afar 
In western sky our empire's star 
And strong of heart and brave of soul, 
"We marched and marched to reach the goal. 
Unrolled a scroll, the great gray plains, 
And traced thereon our wagon trains, 
Our blazing campfires marked the road 
As each succeeding night they glowed. 

Gaunt hunger, drouth, fierce heat and cold 
Beset us as in days of old 
Great dragons sought to swallow down 
Adventurous heroes of renown. 
There menaced us our tawny foes, 
Where any bank or hillock rose ; 
A cloud of dust or shadows' naught 
Seemed ever with some danger fraught. 

Weird mountain ranges crossed our path 
And frowned on us in seeming wrath; 
Their beetling crags and icy brows 
Well might a hundred fears arouse. 
Impetuous rivers swirled and boiled, 
As though from mischief ever foiled. 
At length in safety all were crossed, 

[182] 



SONG OF THE PIONEERS. 

Though roughly were our "schooners" tossed. 

With joy we saw fair Puget Sound, 
White, glistening peaks set all around. 
At Alki Point our feet we stayed, 
(The women wept, the children played). 
On Chamber's prairie, Whidby's isle, 
Duwamish river, mile on mile 
Away from these, on lake or bay 
The lonely settlers blazed the way 
For civilization's march and sway. 

The mountains, forests, bays and streams, 
Their grandeur wove into our dreams ; 
Our thoughts grew great and undismayed, 
We toiled and sang or waiting, prayed. 
As suns arose and then went down 
We gazed on Rainier 's snowy crown. 
God's battle-tents gleamed in the west, 
So pure they called our thoughts above 
To heaven's joy and peace and love. 

We found a race tho' rude and wild, 
Still tender toward friend or child, 
For dark eyes laughed or shone with tears 
As joy or sorrow filled the years ; 
Their black-eyed babes the red men kissed 
And captive brothers sorely missed. 
With broken hearts, brown mothers wept 
When babes away by death were swept. 

Chief Sealth stood the white man's friend, 
With insight keen he saw the end 
Of struggles vain against a foe 
Whose coming forced their overthrow. 

[183] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

For pity oft lie freed the slaves, 
To reasoning cool he called his braves; 
But bitter wrongs the pale-face wrought — 
Revenge and hatred on us brought. 



With life the woods and waters teemed, 
A boundless store we never dreamed, 
Of berries, deer and grouse and fish, 
Sufficient for a gourmand's wish. 
Our dusky neighbors friendly- wise 
Brought down the game before our eyes; 
They wiled the glittering finny tribe, 
"Well pleased to trade with many a jibe. 

"We lit the forests far and wide 

"With pitch-wood torches, true and tried, 

"We traveled far in frail canoes, 

Cayuses rode, wore Indian shoes, 

And clothes of skin, and ate clam stews, 

Clam frys and chowder; baked or fried 

The clam was then the settler's pride; 

"Clam-diggers" then, none dared deride. 

A sound arose our hearts to thrill, 
From whirring saws in Yesler's mill; 
The village crept upon the hill. 
On many hills our city's spread, 
As fair a queen as one that wed 
The Adriatic, so 'tis said. 
Our tasks so hard are well nigh done — 
Today our hearts will beat as one! 

Each one may look now to the west 
For end of days declared the best, 

[184] 



SONG OF THE PIONEERS. 

Since sunset here is sunrise there, 
Our heavenly home is far more fair. 
As up the slope of coming years 
Time pushes on the pioneers, 
With peace may e'er our feet be shod 
And press at last the mount of God. 

E. I DENNY. 
Seattle, June, 1893. 



7a- [185] 



CHAPTER II. 

BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES AND SKETCHES. 
JOHN DENNY. 

As elsewhere indicated, only a few of the 
leading characters will be followed in their 
careers. Of these, John Denny is fittingly placed 
first. 

" John Denny was born of pioneer parents 
near Lexington, Kentucky, May 4th, 1793. In 
1813 he was a volunteer in Col. Richard M. John- 
son's regiment of mounted riflemen, and served 
through the war, participated in the celebrated 
battle of the Thames in Canada, where Tecumseh 
was killed and the British army under Proctor 
surrendered. Disaster fell upon him, the results 
of which followed him throughout his life. The 
morning gun stampeded the horses in camp while 
the soldiers were still asleep, and they ran over 
John Denny where he lay asleep in a tent, 
wounding his knee so that the synovial fluid ran 
out and also broke three of his ribs. In 1823 he 
removed to Putnam County, Indiana, then an 
unknown wilderness, locating -six miles east of 
Greencastle, where he resided for the succeeding 
twelve years. He is remembered as a leading 
man of energy and public spirit. 

In 1835 he removed to Illinois and settled in 
Knox County, then near the frontier of civiliza- 

[186] 



JOHN DENNY. 

tion, where lie lived for the next succeeding six- 
teen years, during which time he represented his 
county in both branches of the state legislature, 
serving with Lincoln, Douglas, Baker, Yates, 
Washburn and Trumbull, with all of whom he 
formed warm personal friendships, which lasted 
through life, despite political differences. 

In 1851, at an age when most men think they 
have outlived their usefulness and seek the re- 
pose demanded by their failing physical strength, 
accompanied by his children and grandchildren, 
he braved the toils and perils of an overland 
journey to this then remote wilderness upon the 
extreme borders of civilization and settled upon 
a farm in Marion County, Oregon, while his sons. 
Arthur A. and David T., took claims on Elliott 
Bay and were among the founders of Seattle, 
where they command universal respect for their 
intelligence, integrity and public spirit, Arthur 
having represented the territory as delegate in 
congress and served several terms in the Terri- 
torial Legislature. 

David has held many responsible public 
positions, including Probate Judge and Eegent 
of the University, and is respected by all as a 
clear-headed and scrupulously honest man and 
most estimable citizen. 

John Denny remained in Oregon about six 
years, but held no official position there, for the 
reason that he was an uncompromising Whig and 
Oregon was overwhelmingly Democratic, includ- 

[187] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

ing among the leaders of the Democratic party 
George H. Williams, Judge Deady, Gov. Gibb§ 
and much of the best intellect of the state. 

He, however, entered warmly into the politi- 
cal discussions of the times, and many incidents 
are remembered and many anecdotes told of the 
astonishment and discomfiture of some of the 
most pretentious public speakers when meeting 
the unpretending pioneer farmer in public dis- 
cussion. He was a natural orator and had im- 
proved his gift by practice and extensive read- 
ing. 

Pew professional men were better posted in 
current history and governmental philosophy or 
could make a better use of their knowledge in 
addressing a popular audience. 

In 1859 he removed to Seattle, and from that 
time on to the day of his death was a recognized 
leader in every enterprise calculated to promote 
the prosperity of the town or advance its educa- 
tional and social interests. No public measure, 
no public meeting to consider public enterprise, 
was a success in which he was not a central 
figure, not as an assumed director, but as an 
earnest co-operator, who enthused others by his 
own undaunted spirit of enterprise, and when 
past eighty years of age his voice was heard stir- 
ring up the energies of the people, and by his 
example, no less than his precepts, he shamed 
the listless and selfish younger men into activity 
and public spirit. 

[188] 



JOHN DENNY. 

When any special legislative aid was desired 
for this section, John Denny was certain to be 
selected to obtain it; by his efforts mainly the 
Territorial University was located at this place. 

He passed his long and active life almost 
wholly upon the frontiers of civilization, not 
from any aversion to the refinements and re- 
straints of social life, for few men possessed 
higher social qualities or had in any greater 
degree the nicer instincts of a gentleman — he 
held a patent of nobility under the signet of the 
Almighty, and his intercourse with others was 
ever marked by a courtesy which betokened not 
only self-respect but a due regard for the rights 
and opinions of others. He was impelled by as 
noble ambition as ever sought the conquest of 
empire or the achievement of personal glory — 
the subduing of the unoccupied portions of his 
country to the uses of man, with the patriotic 
purpose of extending his country's glory and 
augmenting its resources. 

His first care in every settlement was to 
establish and promote education, religion and 
morality as the only true foundation of social 
as well as individual prosperity, and with all his 
courage and manly strength he rarely, if ever, 
was drawn into a lawsuit. 

John Denny was of that noble race of men, 
now nearly extinct, who formed the vanguard of 
Western civilization and were the founders of 
empire. Their day is over, their vocation ended, 

[189] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

because the limit of their enterprise has been 
reached. Among the compeers of the same stock 
were Dick Johnson, Harrison, Lincoln, Harden 
and others famous in the history of the country, 
who only excelled him in historic note by biding 
their opportunities in waiting to reap the fruits 
of the harvest which they had planted. He was 
the peer of the best in all the elements of man- 
hood, of heart and brain. In all circumstances 
and surroundings he was a recognized leader of 
men, and would have been so honored and so 
commanded that leading place in public history 
had he waited for the development of the social 
institutions which he helped to plant in the West- 
ern states, now the seat of empire. All who 
entered his presence were instinctively impressed 
by his manhood. Yet no man was less preten- 
tious or more unostentatious in his intercourse 
with others. 

He reverenced his manhood, and felt himself 
here among men his brethren under the eye of a 
common Father. 

He felt that he was bound to work for all 
like a brother and like a son. 

So he was brave, so he was true, so his in- 
tegrity was unsullied, so not a stain dims his 
memory ; so he rebuked vice and detested mean- 
ness and hated with a cordial hate all falsehood, 
all dishonesty and all trickery; so he was the 
chivalrous champion of the innocent and op- 
pressed ; so he was gentle and merciful, because 

[190] 



JOHN DENNY. 

he was working among a vast family as a brother 
"recognizing the Great Father, Who sits over 
all, Who is forever Truth and forever Love." 

Such words as these were said of him at the 
time of his death, when the impressions of his 
personality were fresh in the minds of the people. 

He entered into rest July 28th, 1875. 

It is within my recollection that the keen 
criticisms and droll anecdotes of John Denny 
were often repeated by his hearers. The power 
with which he swayed an audience was some- 
thing wonderful to behold ; the burning enthusi- 
asm which his oratory kindled, inciting to action, 
the waves of convulsive laughter his wit evoked 
were abundant evidence of his influence. 

In repartee, he excelled. At one time when 
A. A. Denny was a member of the Territorial 
Legislature, John Denny was on his way to the 
capital to interview him, doubtless concerning 
some important measure ; he received the hospi- 
tality of a settler who was a stranger to him 
and moreover very curious with regard to the 
traveler's identity and occupation. At last this 
questioning brought forth the remarkable state- 
ment that he, John Denny, had a son in the 
lunatic ass-ylum in Olympia whom he intended 
visiting. 

The questioner delightedly related it after- 
ward, laughing heartily at the compliment paid 
to the Legislature. 

In a published sketch a personal friend 

[191] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

says: "He was so full of humor that it was 
impossible to conceal it, and his very presence 
became a mirth-provoking contagion absolutely 
irresistible in its effects. 

"Let him come when he would, everybody 
was ready to drop everything else to listen to a 
story from Uncle John. 

"He went home to the States during the 
war, via the Isthmus of Panama. On the trip 
down from San Francisco the steamer ran on a 
rock and stuck fast. Of course, there was a 
great fright and excitement, many crying out 
'We shall all be drowned,' 'Lord save us!' etc. 
Amid it all Uncle John coolly took in the chances 
of the situation, and when a little quiet had been 
restored so he could be heard by all in the cabin, 
he said: 'Well, I reckon there was a fair bar- 
gain between me and the steamship company to 
carry me down to Panama, and they've got their 
cash for it, and now if they let me drown out 
here in this ornery corner, where I can't have a 
decent funeral, I'll sue 'em for damages, and 
bust the consarned old company all to flinders.' 

"This had the effect to divert the passen- 
gers, and helped to prevent a panic, and not a 
life was lost. 

"In early life he had been a Whig and in 
Illinois had fought many a hard battle with the 
common enemy. He had represented his district 
repeatedly in the legislature of that state, and 
he used to tell with pride, and a good deal of 

[192] 



. . ! 



' 



ii- 




SARAH DENNY 
JOHN DENNY S. LORETTA DENNY 



JOHN DENNY. 

satisfaction, how one day a handful of the Whigs, 
Old Abe and himself among the number, broke 
a quorum of the house by jumping from a 
second-story window, thereby preventing the 
passage of a bill which was obnoxious to the 
Whigs. 

"The Democrats had been watching their 
opportunity, and having secured a quorum with 
but few of the Whigs in the house, locked the 
doors and proposed to put their measure 
through. But the Whigs nipped the little game 
in the manner related." 

After Lincoln had become President and 
John Denny had crossed the Plains and pio- 
neered it in Oregon and Washington Territories, 
the latter visited the national capital on import- 
ant business. 

While there Mr. Denny attended a presi- 
dential reception and tested his old friend's 
memory in this way: Forbidding his name to 
be announced, he advanced in the line and gave 
his hand to President Lincoln, then essayed to 
pass on. Lincoln tightened his grasp and said, 
"No you don't, John Denny; you come around 
back here and we'll have a talk after a while." 

On the stump he was perfectly at home, 
never coming off second best. His ready wit 
and tactics were sure to stand him in hand at 
the needed moment. 

In one of the early campaigns of Washing- 
ton Territory, which was a triangular combat 

[193] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

waged by Republicans, Democrats and " Bolt- 
ers," John Denny, who was then a Republican, 
became one of the third party. At a political 
meeting which was held in Seattle, at which I 
was present, a young man recently from the 
East and quite dandyish, a Republican and a 
lawyer, made quite a high-sounding speech; 
after he sat down John Denny advanced to 
speak. 

He began very coolly to point out how they 
had been deceived by the rascally Republican 
representative in his previous term of office, and 
suddenly pointing his long, lean forefinger di- 
rectly at the preceding speaker, his voice gath- 
ering great force and intensity, he electrified 
the audience by saying, "And no little huckle- 
berry lawyer can blind us to the facts in the 
case." 

The audience roared, the " huckleberry law- 
yer's" face was scarlet and his curly locks fairly 
bristled with embarrassment. The hearers were 
captivated and listened approvingly to a round 
scoring of the opponents of the " bolters." 

He was a fearless advocate of temperance, 
or prohibition rather, of woman suffragists 
when they were weak, few and scoffed at, an 
abolitionist and a determined enemy of tobacco. 
I have seen him take his namesake among the 
grandchildren between his aged knees and say, 
" Don't ever eat tobacco, John; your grandfather 
wishes he had never touched it." His oft- 

[194] 



JOHN DENNY. 

repeated advice was heeded by this grandson, 
who never uses it in any form. 

He was tall, slender, with snow-white hair 
and a speaking countenance full of the most 
glowing intelligence. 

When the news came to the little village of 
Seattle that he had returned from Washington 
City, where he had been laboring to secure an 
appropriation for the Territorial University, 
two of his little grandchildren ran up the hill 
to meet him; he took off his high silk hat, his 
silvery hair shining in the fair sunlight and 
smiled a greeting, as they grasped either hand 
and fairly led him to their home. 

A beautiful tribute from the friend before 
quoted closes this brief and inadequate sketch; 

"He sleeps out yonder midway between the 
lakes (Washington and Union), where the 
shadows of the Cascades in the early morning 
fall upon the rounded mound of earth that marks 
his resting place, and the shadows of the Olym- 
pics in the early evening rest lovingly and 
caressingly on the same spot; there, where the 
song birds of the forest and the wild flowers and 
gentle zephyrs, laden with the perfume of the 
fir and cedar, pay a constant tribute to departed 
goodness and true worth." 



[195] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

SAKAH LATIMER DENNY. 

The subject of this sketch was a Tennessean 
of an ancestry notable for staying qualities, re- 
ligious steadfastness and solid character, as well 
as gracious and kindly bearing. 

On her father's side she traced descent from 
the martyr, Hugh Latimer, and although none 
of the name have been called to die at the stake 
in the latter days, Washington Latimer, nephew 
of Sarah Latimer Denny, was truly a martyr to 
principle, dying in Andersonville prison during 
the Rebellion. 

The prevailing sentiment of the family was 
patriotic and strongly in favor of the abolition 
movement. 

One of the granddaughters pleasurably re- 
calls the vision of Joseph Latimer, father of 
Sarah, sitting in his dooryard, under the boughs 
of a great Balm of Gilead tree, reading his Bible. 

Left to be the helper of her mother when 
very young, by the marriage of her elder sister, 
she quickly became a competent manager in 
household affairs, sensible of her responsibili- 
ties, being of a grave and quiet disposition. 

She soon married a young Baptist minister, 
Richard Freeman Boren, whose conversion and 
call to the ministry were clear and decided. His 
first sermon was preached in the sitting room 
of a private house, where were assembled, among 
others, a number of his gay and pleasure-loving 

[196] 



SARAH LATIMER DENNY. 

companions, whom he fearlessly exhorted to a 
holy life. 

His hands were busy with his trade of 
cabinetmaking a part of the time, for the sup- 
port of his family, although he rode from place 
to place to preach. 

A few years of earnest Christian work, de- 
voted affection and service to his family and he 
passed away to his reward, leaving the young 
widow with three little children, the youngest 
but eighteen months old. 

In her old age she often reverted to their 
brief, happy life together, testifying that he 
never spoke a cross word to her. 

She told of his premonition of death and 
her own remarkable dream immediately preced- 
ing that event. 

While yet in apparently perfect health he 
disposed of all his tools, saying that he would 
not need them any more. 

One night, toward morning, she dreamed 
that she saw a horse saddled and bridled at the 
gate and some one said to her that she must 
mount and ride to see her husband, who was very 
sick; she obeyed, in her dream, riding over a 
strange road, crossing a swollen stream at one 
point. 

At daylight "she awoke ; a horse with side- 
saddle on was waiting and a messenger called 
her to go to her husband, as he was dangerously 
ill at a distant house. Exactly as in her dream 

[197] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

she was conducted, she traversed the road and 
crossed the swollen stream to reach the place 
where he lay, stricken with a fatal malady. 

After his death she returned to her father's 
house, but the family migrated from Tennessee 
to Illinois, spent their first winter in Sangamon 
County, afterward settling in Knox County. 

There the brave young pioneer took up her 
abode in a log cabin on a piece of land which she 
purchased with the proceeds of her own hard 
toil. 

The cabin was built without nails, of either 
oak or black walnut logs, it is not now known, 
with oak clapboards, braces and weight-poles 
and puncheon floor. There was one window 
without glass, a stick and clay mortar chimney, 
and a large, cheerful fireplace where the back- 
logs and fore-sticks held pyramids of dancing, 
ruddy flames, and the good cooking was done in 
the good old way. 

By industry and thrift everything was 
turned to account. The ground was made to 
yield wheat, corn and flax ; the last was taken 
through the whole process of manufacture into 
bed and table linen on the spot. Sheep were 
raised, the wool sheared, carded, spun, dyed and 
woven, all by hand, by this indefatigable worker, 
just as did many others of her time. 

They made almost every article of clothing 
they wore, besides cloth for sale. 

Great, soft, warm feather beds comforted 

[198] 



SARAH LATIMEE DENNY. 

them in the cold Illinois winters, the contents of 
which were plucked from the home flock of 
geese. 

As soon as the children were old enough, 
they assisted in planting corn and other crops. 

The domestic supplies were almost entirely 
of home production and manufacture. Soap for 
washing owed its existence to the ash-hopper 
and scrap-kettle, and the soap-boiling was an 
important and necessary process. The modern 
housewife would consider herself much afflicted 
if she had to do such work. 

And the sugar-making, which had its pleas- 
ant side, the sugar camp and its merry tenants. 

About half a mile from the cabin stood the 
sugar maple grove to which this energetic pro- 
vider went to tap the trees, collect the sap and 
finally boil the same until the " sugaring off." 
A considerable event it was, with which they be- 
gan the busy season. 

One of the daughters of Sarah Latimer 
Denny remembers that when a little child she 
went with her mother to the sugar camp where 
they spent the night. Resting on a bed of leaves, 
she listened to her mother as she sang an old 
camp meeting hymn, " Wrestling Jacob," while 
she toiled, mending the fire and stirring the sap, 
all night long under dim stars sprinkled in the 
naked branches overhead. 

Other memories of childish satisfaction 
hold visions of the early breakfast when " Uncle 

[199] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

John" came to see his widowed sister, who, with 
affectionate hospitality, set the " Johnny-cake" 
to bake on a board before the fire, made choco- 
late, fried the chicken and served them with 
snowy biscuits and translucent preserves. 

For the huge fireplace, huge lengths of logs, 
for the backlogs, were cut, which required three 
persons to roll in place. 

Cracking walnuts on the generous hearth 
helped to beguile the long winter evenings. A 
master might have beheld a worthy subject in 
the merry children and their mother thus occu- 
pied. 

If other light were needed than the ruddy 
gleams the fire gave, it was furnished by a lard 
lamp hung by a chain and staple in the wall, or 
one of a pallid company of dipped candles. 

Sometimes there were unwelcome visitors 
bent on helping themselves to the best the farm 
afforded; one day a wolf chased a chicken up 
into the chimney corner of the Boren cabin, to 
the consternation of the small children. Wolves 
also attacked the sheep alongside the cabin at 
the very moment when one of the family was 
trying to catch some lambs; such savage bold- 
ness brought hearty and justifiable screams from 
the young shepherdess thus engaged. 

The products of the garden attached to this 
cabin are remembered as wonderful in richness 
and variety; the melons, squashes, pumpkins, 
etc., the fragrant garden herbs, the dill and 

[200] 



SAEAH LATIMER DENNY. 

caraway seeds for the famous seedcakes carried 
in grandmothers' pockets or " reticules." In 
addition to these, the wild fruits and game ; haws, 
persimmons, grapes, plums, deer and wild tur- 
key; the medicinal herbs, bone-set and blood- 
root ; the nut trees heavily laden in autumn, all 
ministered to the comfort and health of the pio- 
neers. 

The mistress was known for her generous 
hospitality then, and throughout her life. In 
visiting and treating the sick she distanced edu- 
cated practitioners in success. Never a violent 
partisan, she was yet a steadfast friend. One 
daughter has said that she never knew any one 
who came so near loving her neighbor as herself. 
Just, reasonable, kind, ever ready with sympa- 
thetic and wholesome advice, it was applicably 
said of her, "She openeth her mouth with wis- 
dom and in her tongue is the law of kindness." 

As the years went by the children were sent 
to school, the youngest becoming a teacher. 

Toilsome years they were, but doubtless full 
of rich reward. 

Afterward, while yet in the prime of life, 
she married John Denny, a Kentuckian and pio- 
neer of Indiana, Illinois and finally of Oregon 
and Washington. 

"With this new alliance new fields of effort 
and usefulness opened before her. The unusual 
occurrence of a widowed mother and her two 
daughters marrying a widower and his two sons 

[201] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

made this new tie exceeding strong. With 
them, as before stated, she crossed the plains 
and " pioneered it" in Oregon among the Waldo 
Hills, from whence she moved to Seattle on 
Puget Sound with her husband and little daugh- 
ter, Loretta Denny, in 1859. 

The shadow of pioneer days was scarcely 
receding, the place was a little straggling village 
and much remained of beginnings. As before in 
all other places, her busy hands found much to 
do ; many a pair of warm stockings and mittens 
from her swift needles found their way into the 
possession of the numerous grand and great- 
grandchildren. In peaceful latter days she sat 
in a cozy corner with knitting basket at hand, 
her Bible in easy reach. 

Her mind was clear and vigorous and she 
enjoyed reading and conversing upon topics old 
and new. 

Her cottage home with its blooming plants, 
of which " Grandmother's calla," with its fre- 
quent, huge, snowy spathes, was much admired, 
outside the graceful laburnum tree and sweet- 
scented roses, was a place that became a Mecca 
to the tired feet and weary hearts of her kins- 
folk and acquaintances. 

With devoted, filial affection her youngest 
daughter, S. Loretta Denny, remained with her 
until she entered into rest, February 10th, 1888. 



[202] 



CHAPTEE III. 



DAVID THOMAS DENNY. 



David Thomas Denny was the first of the 
name to set foot upon the shores of Puget Sound. 
Born in Putnam County, Indiana, March 17th, 
1832, he was nineteen years of age when he 
crossed the plains with his father's company in 
1851. He is a descendant of an ancient family, 
English and Scotch, who moved to Ireland and 
thence to America, settling in Berk's County, 
Pa. His father was John Denny, a notable man 
in his time, a soldier of 1812, and a volunteer 
under William Henry Harrison. 

The long, rough and toilsome journey across 
the plains was a schooling for the subsequent 
trials of pioneer life. Young as he was, he stood 
in the very forefront, the outmost skirmish line 
of his advancing detachment of the great army 
moving West. The anxious watch, the roughest 
toil, the reconnaissance fell to his lot. He drove 
a four-horse team, stood guard at night, alter- 
nately sleeping on the ground, under the wagon, 
hunted for game to aid in their sustenance, and, 
briefly, served his company in many ways with 
the energy and faithfulness which characterized 
his subsequent career. 

With his party he reached Portland in Aug- 
ust, 1851 ; from thence, with J. N. Low, he made 

[203] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

his way to Olympia on Puget Sound, where he 
arrived footsore and weary, they having trav- 
eled on foot the Hudson Bay Company's trail 
from the Columbia River. From Olympia, with 
Low, Lee Terry, Captain Fay and others, he 
journeyed in an open boat to Duwampsh Head, 
which has suffered many changes of name, where 
they camped, sleeping under the boughs of a 
great cedar tree the first night, September 25th, 
1851. 

The next day Denny, Terry and Low made 
use of the skill and knowledge of the native in- 
habitants by hiring two young Indians to take 
them up the Duwampsh River in their canoe. 
He was left to spend the following night with 
the two Indians, as his companions had wan- 
dered so far away that they could not return, 
but remained at an Indian camp farther up the 
river. On the 28th they were reunited and re- 
turned to their first camp, from which they re- 
moved the same day to Alki Point. 

A cabin was commenced and after a time, 
Low and Terry returned to Portland, leaving 
David Thomas Denny, nineteen years of age, the 
only white person on Elliott Bay. There were 
then swarms of Indians on the Sound. 

For three weeks he held this outpost of 
civilization, a part of the time being far from 
well. So impressed was he with the def enseless- 
ness of the situation that he expressed himself 
as " sorry" when his friends landed from the 

[204] 



DAVID THOMAS DENNY. 

schooner " Exact" at AM Point on the 13th of 
November, 1851. No doubt realizing that an 
irretrievable step had been taken, he tried to 
reassure them by explaining that "the cabin was 
unfinished and that they would not be comfort- 
able." Many incidents of his early experience 
are recorded in this volume elsewhere. 

He was married on the 23rd of January, 
1853, to Miss Louisa Boren, one of the most in- 
telligent, courageous and devoted of pioneer 
women. They were the first white couple mar- 
ried in Seattle. He was an explorer of the east- 
ern side of Elliott Bay, but was detained at home 
in the cabin by lameness occasioned by a cut on 
his foot, when A. A. Denny, W. N. Bell and C. 
D. Boren took their claims, so had fourth choice. 

For this reason his claim awaited the growth 
of the town of Seattle many years, but finally 
became very valuable. 

It was early discovered by the settlers that 
he was a conscientious man; so well established 
was this fact that he was known by the sobriquet 
of "Honest Dave." 

Like all the other pioneers, he turned his 
hand to any useful thing that was available, cut- 
ting and hewing timber for export, clearing a 
farm, hauling wood, tending cattle, anything 
honorable ; being an advocate of total abstinence 
and prohibition, he never kept a saloon. 

He has done all in his power to discounte- 
nance the sale and use of intoxicants, the baleful 

[205] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

effects of which were manifest among both 
whites and Indians. 

Every movement in the early days seems to 
have been fraught with danger. D. T. Denny 
traveled in a canoe with two Indians from the 
Seattle settlement in July, 1852, to Bush's 
Prairie, back of Olympia, to purchase cattle for 
A. A. Denny, carrying two hundred dollars in 
gold for that purpose. He risked his life in so 
doing, as he afterward learned that the Indians 
thought of killing him and taking the money, but 
for some unknown reason decided not to do the 
deed. 

He was a volunteer during the Indian war 
of 1855-6, in Company C, and with his company 
was not far distant when Lieut. Slaughter was 
killed, with several others. Those who survived 
the attack were rescued b}^ this company. 

On the morning of the battle of Seattle, he 
was standing guard near Fort Decatur ; the most 
thrilling moment of the day to him was probably 
that in which he helped his wife and child into 
the fort as they fled from the Indians. 

Although obliged to fight the Indians in 
self-defense in their warlike moods, yet he was 
ever their true friend and esteemed by them as 
such. He learned to speak the native tongue 
fluently, in such manner as to be able to converse 
with all the neighboring tribes, and unnumbered 
times, through years of disappointment, sorrow 

[206] 



DAVID THOMAS DENNY. 

and trouble, they sought his advice and sym- 
pathy. 

For a quarter of a century the hand-to-hand 
struggle went on by the pioneer and his family, 
to conquer the wilds, win a subsistence and ob- 
tain education. 

By thrift and enterprise they attained in- 
dependence, and as they went along helped to 
lay the foundations of many institutions and 
enterprises of which the commonwealth is now 
justly proud. 

David Thomas Denny possessed the gifts 
and abilities of a typical pioneer; a good shot, 
his trusty rifle provided welcome articles ol 
food; he could make, mend and invent useful 
and necessary things for pioneer work ; it was a 
day, in fact, when "Adam delved" and "Eve" 
did likewise, and no man was too fine a "gentle- 
man" to do any sort of work that was required. 

Having the confidence of the community, he 
was called upon to fill many positions of trust ; 
he was a member of the first Board of Trustees 
of Seattle, Treasurer of King County, Regent 
of the Territorial University, Probate Judge, 
School Director, etc., etc. 

Although a Republican and an abolitionist, 
he did not consider every Democrat a traitor, 
and thereby incurred the enmity of some. Party 
feeling ran high. 

At that time (during the Rebellion) there 
stood on Pioneer Place in Seattle a very tall 

[207] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

flagstaff. Upon the death of a prominent Demo- 
crat it was proposed to half-mast the flag on this 
staff, but during the night the halyards were cut, 
it was supposed by a woman, at the instigation 
of her husband and others, but the friends of 
the deceased hired "Billie" Fife, a well-known 
cartoonist and painter, to climb to the top and 
rig a new rope, a fine sailor feat, for which he 
received twenty dollars. 

The first organizer of Good Templar Lodges 
was entertained at Mr. Denny's house, and he, 
with several of the family, became charter mem- 
bers of the first organization on October 4th, 
1866. He was the first chaplain of the first lodge 
of I. O. G. T. organized in Seattle. 

In after years the subject of this sketch be- 
came prominent in the Prohibition movement; 
it was suggested to him at one time that he per- 
mit his name to be used as Prohibition candidate 
for Governor of the State of Washington, but 
the suggestion was never carried out. He would 
have considered it an honor to be defeated in a 
good cause. 

He also became a warm advocate of equal 
suffrage, and at both New York and Omaha M. 
E. general conferences he heartily favored the 
admission of women lay delegates, and much 
regretted the adverse decision by those in au- 
thority. 

The old pioneers were and are generally 
broad, liberal and progressive in their ideas and 

[208] 




DAVID THOMAS DENNY 



DAVID THOMAS DENNY. 

principles ; they found room and opportunity to 
think and act with more freedom than in the 
older centers of civilization, consequently along 
every line they are in the forefront of modern 
thought. 

For its commercial development, Seattle 
owes much to David Thomas Denny, and others 
like him, in perhaps a lesser degree. In the days 
of small beginnings, he recognized the possibili- 
ties of development in the little town so fortu- 
nately located. His hard-earned wealth, energy 
and talents have been freely given to make the 
city of the present as well as that which it will be: 

D. T. Denny made a valuable gift to the 
city of Seattle in a plot of land in the heart of 
the best residence portion of the city. Many 
years ago it was used as a cemetery, but was 
afterward vacated and is now a park. He landed 
on the site of Seattle with twenty-five cents in 
his pocket. His acquirement of wealth after 
years of honest work was estimated at three 
million. 

Not only his property, money, thought and 
energy have gone into the building up of Seattle, 
but hundreds of people, newly arrived, have oc- 
cupied his time in asking information and ad- 
vice in regard to their settling in the West. 

He was president of the first street railway 
company of Seattle, and afterward spent thou- 
sands of dollars on a large portion of the system 
of cable and electric roads of which the citizens 

8- [209] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

of Seattle are wont to boast, unknowing, careless 
or forgetting that what is their daily conven- 
ince impoverished those who built, equipped and 
operated them. He and his company owned and 
operated for a time the Consolidated Electric 
road to North Seattle, Cedar Street and Green 
Lake; the cable road to Queen Anne Hill, and 
built and equipped the " Third Street and Sub- 
urban" electric road to the University and Ra- 
venna Park. 

The building and furnishing of a large 
sawmill with the most approved modern machin- 
ery, the establishing of an electric light plant, 
furnishing a water supply to a part of the city, 
and in many other enterprises he was actively 
engaged. 

For many years he paid into the public 
treasury thousands of dollars for taxes on his 
unimproved, unproductive real estate, a consid- 
erable portion of which was unjustly required 
and exacted, as it was impossible to have sold 
the property at its assessed valuation. As one 
old settler said, he paid " robber taxes." 

When, in the great financial panic that 
swept over the country in 1893, he obtained a 
loan of the city treasurer and mortgaged to 
secure it real estate worth at least three times 
the sum borrowed, the mob cried out against him 
and sent out his name as one who had robbed the 
city, forsooth! 

[210] 



DAVID THOMAS DENNY. 

This was not the only occasion when the 
canaille expressed their disapproval. 

Previous to, and during the anti-Chinese 
riot in Seattle, which occurred on Sunday, Feb- 
ruary 7th, 1886, he received a considerable 
amount of offensive attention. In the dark dis- 
trict of Seattle, there gathered one day a fore- 
runner of the greater mob which created so much 
disturbance, howling that they would burn him 
out. "We'll burn his barn," they yelled, their 
provocation being that he employed Chinese 
house servants and rented ground to Mongolian 
gardeners. The writer remembers that it was a 
fine garden, in an excellent state of cultivation. 
No doubt many of the agitators themselves had 
partaken of the products thereof many times, 
it being one of the chief sources of supply of the 
city. 

The threats were so loud and bitter against 
the friends of the Chinese that it was felt neces- 
sary to post a guard at his residence. The eld- 
est son was in Oregon, attending the law school 
of the University ; the next one, D. Thos. Denny, 
Jr., not yet of age, served in the militia during 
the riot; the third and youngest remained at 
home ready to help defend the same. The out- 
look was dark, but after some serious remarks 
concerning the condition of things, Mr. Denny 
went up stairs and brought down his Winchester 
rifle, stood it in a near corner and calmly re- 
sumed his reading. As he had dealt with savages 

[211] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

before, he stood his ground. At a notorious trial 
of white men for unprovoked murder of Chinese, 
it was brought out that "Mr. David Denny, he 
'fliend 5 (friend) of Chinese, Injun and Mgger." 

During the time that his great business 
called for the employment of a large force of 
men, he was uniformly kind to them, paying the 
highest market price for their labor. Some 
were faithful and honest, some were not; in- 
stead of its being a case of "greedy millionaire," 
it was a case of just the opposite thing, as it was 
well known that he was robbed time and again by 
dishonest employes. 

When urged to close down his mill, as it was 
running behind, he said "I can't do it, it will 
throw a hundred men out of employment and 
their families will suffer." So he borrowed 
money, paying a ruinous rate of interest, and 
kept on, hoping that business would improve; 
it did not and the mill finally went under. A 
good many employes who received the highest 
wages for the shortest hours, struck for more, 
and others were full of rage when the end came 
and there were only a few dollars due on their 
wages. 

Neither was he a "heartless landlord," the 
heartlessness was on the other side, as numbers 
of persons sneaked off without paying their rent, 
and many built houses, the lumber in which was 
never paid for. 

[212] 



DAVID THOMAS DENNY. 

According to their code it was not stealing 
to rob a person supposed to be wealthy. 

The common remark was, "Old Denny can 
stand it, he's got lots of money." 

The anarchist-communistic element dis- 
played their strength and venom in many ways 
in those days. They heaped abuse on those, who 
unfortunately for themselves, employed men, 
and bit the hand that fed them. 

Their cry was "Death to Capitalists!" They 
declared their intention at one time of hanging 
the leading business men of Seattle, breaking 
the vaults of the bank open, burning the records 
and dividing lands and money among them- 
selves. But the reign of martial law at the cul- 
mination of their heroic efforts in the Anti- Chi- 
nese riot, brought them to their senses, the his- 
tory of which period may be told in another 
chapter. 

From early youth, David Thomas Denny 
was a faithful member of the M. E. Church, 
serving often in official capacity and rendering 
valuable assistance, with voice, hand and pocket- 
book. Twice he was sent as lay delegate to the 
General Conference, a notable body of represen- 
tative men, of which he was a member in 1888 
and again in 1892. 

The conference of 1888 met in New York 
City and held its sessions at the Metropolitan 
Opera House. His family accompanied him, 

[213] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

crossing the continent by the Canadian Pacific 
R. P. by way of Montreal to New York. 

In the latter place, they met their first great 
sorrow, in the death, after a brief illness, of the 
beloved youngest daughter, the return and her 
burial in her native land by the sundown seas. 
Soon followed other days of sadness and trial; 
in less than a year, the second daughter, born in 
Port Decatur, passed away, and others of the 
family, hovered on the brink of the grave, but 
happily were restored. 

Loss of fortune followed loss of friends as 
time went on, but these storms passed and calm 
returned. He went steadfastly on, confident of 
the rest that awaits the people of God. 

At the age of sixty-seven he was wide awake, 
alert and capable of enduring hardships, no 
doubt partly owing to a temperate life. In late 
years he interested himself in mining and was 
hopeful of his own and his friends' future, and 
that of the state he helped to found. 

While sojourning in the Cascade Mountains 
in 1891, David T. Denny wrote the following : 

" Ptarmigan Park; On Sept. 25th, 1851, 
just forty years ago, Leander Terry, an older 
brother of C. C. Terry, John N. Low and I, 
landed on what has since been known as Free- 
port Point, now West Seattle. We found Chief 
Sealth with his tribe stopping on the beach and 
fishing for salmon — a quiet, dignified man was 
Sealth. 

[214] 



DAVID THOMAS DENNY. 

We camped on the Point and slept under a 
large cedar tree, and the next morning hired a 
couple of young Indians to take us up the Du- 
wampsh Eiver; stayed one night at the place, 
which was afterward taken for a claim by E. B. 
Maple, then returned and camped one night at 
our former place on the Point ; then on the morn- 
ing of the 28th of September went around to AIM 
Point and put down the foundation of the first 
cabin started in what is now King County. 
Looking out over Elliott Bay at that time the site 
where Seattle now stands, was an unbroken 
forest with no mark made by the hand of man 
except a little log fort made by the Indians, 
standing near the corner of Commercial and Mill 
Streets. 

Since that day we have had our Indian war, 
the Crimean war has been fought, the war be- 
tween Prussia and Austria, that between France 
and Prussia, the great Southern Rebellion and 
many smaller wars. 

Then to think of the wonderful achievements 
in the use of electricity and the end is not yet. 

I should like to live another forty years just 
to see the growth of the Sound country, if noth- 
ing else. I fully believe it is destined to be the 
most densely populated and wealthiest of the 
United States. One thing that leads me to this 
conclusion is the evidence of a large aboriginal 
population which subsisted on the natural pro- 
ductions of the land and water. Reasoning by 

[215] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

comparison, what a vast multitude can be sup- 
ported by an intelligent use of the varied re- 
sources of the country and the world to draw 
from besides." , 

And again he wrote : 

" Ptarmigan Park, Sept. 28th, 1891: Just 
forty years ago yesterday, J. N. Low, Lee Terry 
and myself laid the foundation of the first cabin 
started in what is now King County, Washing- 
ton, then Thurston County, Oregon Territory. 

Vast have been the changes since that day. 

Looking back it does not seem so very long 
ago and yet children born since that have grown 
to maturity, married and reared families. 

Many of those who came to Elliott Bay are 
long since gone to their last home. Lee Terry has 
been dead thirty-five years, Capt. Robert Fay, 
twenty or more years, and J. N. Low over two 
years, in fact most of the early settlers have 
passed away: John Buckley and wife, Jacob 
Maple, S. A. Maple, Wm. K Bell and wife, C. C. 
Terry and wife, A. Terry, L. M. Collins and wife, 
Mrs. Kate Butler, E. Hanford, Mother Holgate, 
John Holgate and many others. If they could 
return to Seattle now they would not know the 
place, and yet had it not been for various hin- 
drances, the Indian war, the opposition of the 
N. P. E. E. and the great fire, Seattle would be 
much larger than it now is, the country would 
be much more developed and we would have a 
larger rural population. 

[216] 



DAVID THOMAS DENNY. 

However, from this time forward, I fully 
believe the process of development will move 
steadily on, especially do I believe that we are 
just commencing the development of the min- 
eral resources of the country. Undoubtedly 
there has been more prospecting for the precious 
metals during 1891 than ever before all put to- 
gether. 

In the Silver Creek region there has been, 
probably, six hundred claims taken and from all 
accounts the outlook is very favorable. Also 
from Cle Elum and Swauk we have glowing ac- 
counts. 

In the Ptarmigan Park district about fifty 
claims have been taken, a large amount of de- 
velopment work done and some very fine sam- 
ples of ore taken out." 

(Signed) D. T. Denny. 

In the Seattle Daily Times of September 
25th, 1901. 

"just fifty yeaes ago today. 

On September 25, 1851, Mr. D. T. Denny, 
Now Living in This City, Was Greeted on the, 
Shores of Elliott Bay by Chief Seattle. 

Fifty years ago today, the first white set- 
tlers set foot in King County. 

Fifty years ago today, a little band of pio- 
neers rounded Alki Point and grounded their 
boat at West Seattle. Chief Seattle stalked ma- 
jestically down the beach and greeted them in his 
characteristic way. During the ensuing week 

8a- [217] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

they were guests of a Western sachem, the king 
of Pnget Sound waters, and never were white 
men more royally entertained. 

At that time Chief Seattle was at the height 
of his popularity. With a band of five hundred 
braves behind him, he stood in a position to com- 
mand the respect of all wandering tribes and 
of the first few white men, whose heart-hunger- 
ing and restlessness had driven them from the 
civilization of the East, across the plains of the 
Middle West, to the shores of the Pacific. 

As Mr. Denny is essentially the premier of 
this country, it would not be out of order to give 
a glimpse of his early history. He is the true 
type of pioneer. Although he is somewhat bent 
with age, and his hair is white with the snows 
of many winters, nevertheless, he still shows 
signs of that ruggedness that was with him in 
the early Western days of his youth. Not only 
is he a pioneer, but he came from a family of 
pioneers. Years and years ago his ancestors 
crossed the Atlantic and landed on the Atlantic 
coast. Not satisfied with the prevailing condi- 
tions there, they began to push westward, set- 
tling in what is now Pennsylvania. As the coun- 
try became opened up and settled, this Denny 
family of hardy pioneers again turned their 
faces to the westward sun, and this time Indiana 
made them a home, and still later Illinois. 



[-218] 



DAVID THOMAS DENNY. 

THE STAKT WESTWAKD. 

It was in the latter state that Mr. D. T. 
Denny and his brother first began to hear stories 
of the Willamette valley. Wonderful tales were 
being carried across the plains of the fertility of 
the land around the Columbia Eiver and the 
spirit of restlessness that had been characteristic 
of their ancestors began to tell upon them, and 
after reading all they could find of this prac- 
tically unknown wilderness, they bade farewell 
to their Illinois friends, and started off across 
the plains. 

The start was made on the 10th day of April, 
1851, from Knox County, Illinois. D. T. Denny 
was accompanied by his older brother A. A. Den- 
ny, and family. They drove two four-horse 
teams, and a two-horse wagon, and ten days 
after the start had been made they crossed the 
Missouri River. The fourth of July, 1851, found 
them at Port Hall on Snake Eiver, Montana, an 
old Hudson Bay trading station. On the 11th 
day of August, they reached The Dalles, Oregon, 
and there, after a brief consultation, they decid- 
ed to separate. 

Mr. A. A. Denny here shipped the wagons 
and his family down the river on some small ves- 
sel they were fortunate enough to find there, 
while Mr. D. T. Denny took the horses and 
pushed over the Cascade Mountains. He fol- 
lowed what was then known as the old Barlow 

[219] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

road and reached Portland on the 17th day of 
August. 

They decided to stay in Portland for a few 
days, until they could learn more about the coun- 
try than they then knew, and it was in that city 
that the subject of this sketch worked his first 
day for money. He helped Thomas Carter un- 
load a brig that had reached port from Boston, 
receiving the sum of three dollars for his labors, 
and it was the " biggest three dollars he ever 
earned in his life," so he said. 

While at Portland they began to hear stories 
of Puget Sound, and after a brief consultation^ 
the Denny brothers and Mr. John N. Low, who 
had also made the journey across the plains, de- 
cided to investigate the country that now lies 
around the Queen City of the West. 

OFF FOE ELLIOTT BAY. 

As A. A. Denny had his family to look after, 
it was decided that Mr. Low and D. T. Denny 
would make the trip, and as a consequence, on 
the 10th day of September they ferried Low's 
stock across the river to what was then Fort Van- 
couver. Prom there they followed the Hudson 
Bay trail to the Cowlitz Eiver, and up the Cow- 
litz to Ford's Prairie. Leaving their stock there 
for a short time, they pushed on to Olympia, now 
the capital of the state. 

When they reached Olympia they found 
Capt. E. C. Fay and George M. Martin on the 

[220] 



DAVID THOMAS DENNY. 

point of leaving down Sound to fish for salmon, 
and Messrs. Low, Denny and Terry arranged to 
come as far as the Duwamish River with them. 
The start was made. There was no fluttering 
of flags nor booming of cannon such as marked 
the departure of Columbus when he left for a 
new country, and in fact this little band of men, 
in an open boat, little dreamed that they would 
ultimately land within a stone's throw of what 
was destined to become one of the greatest cities 
in the West. 

Fifty years ago today they camped with 
Chief Seattle on the promontory across the bay. 
They slept that night under the protecting 
branches of a cedar tree, and on the morning of 
the 26th they hired two of Seattle's braves to 
paddle them up the river in a dugout canoe. 
They spent that day in looking over the river 
bottoms, where are now situated the towns of 
Maple Prairie and Van Asselt. There were no 
settlements there then, and nothing but giant 
pines and firs greeted their gaze for miles. It 
was a wonderful sight to these hardy Eastern 
men, and as they wished to know something more 
of the country, Messrs. Low and Terry decided 
to leave the canoe and depart on a short tour 
of exploration. One, two and three hours passed 
and they failed to put in an appearance. In 
vain did Mr. Denny fire his gun, and yell himself 
hoarse, but he was compelled to spend the night 
in the wilderness with the two Indians. 

[221] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

DECIDED TO LOCATE. 

The next day, however, or to be explicit, 
on the 27th of September, he was gratified at 
the appearance of his friends on the river bank. 
They had become lost the night before, and 
falling in with a band of Indians, had spent the 
night with them. Having seen enough of the 
country to become convinced that it was the 
place for them, they returned to what is now 
West Seattle for the night. After the sun had 
disappeared behind the Olympics, they heard a 
scow passing the point, which afterwards they 
found contained L. M. Collins and family, who 
had pushed on up the river and settled on the 
banks of the Duwamish. 

On the morning of the 28th they decided to 
take up claims back of Alki point, and on that 
day started to lay the foundation of the first 
cabin in King county. Having decided to settle 
on Elliott bay, Mr. Low determined to return 
to Portland for his family, whereupon Mr. Den- 
ny wrote the following letter to his brother and 
sent it with him: 

"We have examined the valley of the Du- 
wamish river and find it a fine country. There 
is plenty of room for one thousand settlers. 
Come on at once." 

By the time Mr. Low had reached Portland, 
William Bell and C. D. Boren had also become 
interested in the Puget Sound district, and there- 
fore Messrs. Low, Denny, Bell and Boren, with 

|~222] 



DAVID THOMAS DENNY. 

their families, hired a schooner to take them 
down the Columbia, up on the outside, in through 
the Strait, and up the Sound to AIM, reaching 
the latter point on the 13th of November, 1851. 

In speaking of those early pioneer days, Mr. 
Denny said: 

"We built up quite a settlement over on 
AIM, and the Indians of course came and settled 
around us. No, we were not molested to any 
great extent. I remember that on one night, 
our women folks missed a lot of clothing they 
had hung out to dry, and I at once went to their 
big cMef and told him what had happened. In 
a very short time not only were the missing 
articles returned to us, but a lot that we didn't 
know were gone. 

WHISKY CAUSED TROUBLE. 

"In those early days, in all my experience 
with Indians, I have always found them peace- 
able enough as long as they left whisky alone. 
Of course we had trouble with them, but it was 
always due to the introduction of the white 
man's firewater, which has been more than a 
curse to the red man. 

"When we reached here, the Indians were 
more advanced than one would have naturally 
supposed. We were able to buy berries, fish and 
game of them, and potatoes also. Great fine 
tubers they were too, much better than any we 
had ever been able to raise back in Illinois. In 
fact I don't know what we would have done 

f223] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

during the first two winters had it not been for 
the Indians. 

"But talk about game," he continued, a 
glow coming to his face as the old scenes were 
brought up to him, "why, I have seen the waters, 
of Elliott Bay fairly black with ducks. Deer 
and bear were plentiful then and this was a 
perfect paradise for the man with a rod or gun. 
Never, I am sure, was there a country in which 
it was so easy to live as it was in the Puget 
Sound district fifty years ago." 

"In coming across the plains, Mr. Denny, 
were you attacked by Indians, or have any ad- 
ventures out of the ordinary?" was asked. 

"Well," said he meditatively, "we did have 
one little brush that might have ended with the 
loss of all our lives. It was just after leaving 
Fort Hall, in Montana. We had come up to 
what I think was called the American Falls. 
While quite a distance away we noticed the water 
just below the falls was black, with what we 
supposed were ducks, but as we drew nearer we 
saw they were Indians swimming across with one 
hand and holding their guns high in the air with 
the other. We turned off slightly and started 
down the trail at a rattling rate. We had not 
gone far when a big chief stepped up on the 
bank. He was dressed mainly in a tall plug 
hat and a gun, and he shouted, 'How do, how 
do, stop, stop!' Well, we didn't, and after re- 

[224] 



DAVID THOMAS DENNY. 

peating his question he dropped behind the sage 
brush and opened fire. 

"My brother lay in my wagon sick with 
mountain fever, and that, of course, materially 
reduced our fighting force. Had they succeeded 
in shooting down one of our horses, it would, of 
course, have been the end of us, but fortunately 
they did not and we at last escaped them. No, 
no one was wounded, but it was the worst scrape 
I ever had with the Indians, and I hope I will 
never have to go through a similar experience 
again. It isn't pleasant to be shot at, even by 
an Indian. 

RECOGNIZED THE SPOT. 

"In 1892," said Mr. Denny, "I went East 
over the Great Northern. I was thinking of my 
first experience in Montana when I reached that 
state, when all of a sudden we rounded a curve 
and passed below the falls. I knew them in a 
minute, and instantly those old scenes and try- 
ing times came back to me in a way that was 
altogether too realistic for comfort. No, I have 
not been back~ since. 

"Mr. Prosch, Mr. Ward and myself," con- 
tinued this old pioneer, "had intended to take 
our families over to AIM today and hold a sort 
of a picnic in honor of what happened fifty years 
ago, but of course my sickness has prevented us 
from doing so. I don't suppose we will be here 
to celebrate the event at the end of another fifty 
years, and I should have liked to have gone to- 

[225] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

day. Instead, I suppose I shall sit here and 
think of what I saw and heard at Alki Point 
just fifty years ago. I can live it over again, in 
memories at least. 

"Now, young man," concluded Mr. Denny, 
not unkindly, "please get the names of those 
early pioneers and the dates right. A Seattle 
paper published a bit of this history a few days 
ago, and they got everything all mixed up. This 
is the story, and should be written right, because 
if it isn't, the story becomes valueless. I dislike 
very much to have the stories and events of those 
early days misstated and misrepresented." 

In 1899, Mr. Denny had the arduous task 
of personally superintending the improvement 
of the old Snoqualmie road around the shore of 
Lake Kichelas and on for miles through the 
mountains, building and repairing bridges, mak- 
ing corduroy, blasting out rocks, changing the 
route at times; after much patient effort and 
endurance of discomfort and hardship, he left 
it much improved, for which many a weary way- 
farer would be grateful did they but know. In 
value the work was far beyond the remuneration 
he received. 

During the time he was so occupied he had 
a narrow escape from death by an accident, the 
glancing of a double-bitted ax in the hands of a 
too energetic workman; it struck him between 
the eyes, inflicting a wound which bled alarm- 
ingly, but finally was successfully closed. 

["226] 



DAVID THOMAS DENNY. 

The next year lie camped at Lake Kichelas 
in the interests of a mining company, and inci- 
dentally enjoyed some fishing and prospecting. 
It was the last time he visited the mountains. 

Gradually some maladies which had haunt- 
ed him for years increased. As long as he could 
he exerted himself in helping his family, espe- 
cially in preparing the site for a new home. He 
soon after became a great sufferer for several 
years, struggling against his infirmities, in all 
exhibiting great fortitude and patience. 

His mind was clear to the last and he was 
able to converse, to read and to give sound and 
admirable advice and opinions. 

Almost to the last day of his life he took 
interest in the progress of the nation and of the 
world, following the great movements with ab- 
sorbing interest. 

He expressed a desire to see his friends 
earnest Christians, his own willingness to leave 
earthly scenes and his faith in Jesus. 

So he lived and thus he died, passing away 
on the morning of November 25th, 1903, in the 
seventy-second year of his age. 

He was a great pioneer, a mighty force, 
commercial, moral and religious, in the founda- 
tion-building of the Northwest. 

In a set of resolutions presented by the 
Pioneer Association of the State of Washing- 
ton occur these words: "The record of no citi- 
zen was ever marked more distinctly by acts of 

[2271 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

probity, integrity and general worth than that 
of Mr. D. T. Denny, endearing him to all the 
people and causing them to regard him with the 
utmost esteem and favor." 

On the morning of November 26th, 1903, 
there appeared in the Post-Intelligencer, the 
following : 

" David Thomas Denny, who came to the 
site of Seattle in 1851, the first of his name on 
Puget Sound, died at his home, a mile north 
of Green Lake, at 3 :36 yesterday morning. All 
the members of his family, including John 
Denny, who arrived the day before from Alaska, 
were at the bedside. Until half an hour before 
he passed away Mr. Denny was conscious, and 
engaged those about him in conversation. 

MARRIED IN A CABIN. 

The story of the early life of the Denny 
brothers tallies very nearly with the history of 
Seattle. Mr. and Mrs. David Denny were mar- 
ried in a cabin on the north end of A. A. Denny's 
claim near the foot of Lenora street, January 
23, 1853. The next morning the couple moved 
to their own cabin — built by the husband's hands 
— at the foot of what is now Denny Way. The 
moving was accomplished in a canoe. 

Though they professed a great respect for 
David Denny, the Indians were numerous and 
never very reliable. In a year or two, therefore, 
the family moved up nearer the sawmill and 

[228] 



DAVID THOMAS DENNY. 

little settlement which had grown up near the 
foot of Cherry street. D. T. Denny had mean- 
while staked out a very large portion of what 
is now North Seattle — a plat of three hundred 
and twenty acres. Later he made seven addi- 
tions to the city of Seattle from this claim. In 
1857 it was a wilderness of thick brush, but the 
pioneer moved his family to his farm on the, 
present site of Recreation park in that year. 
The Indian war had occurred the winter before 
and the red men were quiet, having received a 
lesson from the blue jackets which were landed 
from the United States gunboat Decatur. 

Three or four years later the family moved 
to a cottage at the corner of Second avenue and 
Seneca street. In the early 70s they moved to 
the large home at the corner of Dexter and Re- 
publican streets, where the children grew up. 
In 1890 the family took possession of the large 
house standing on Queen Anne avenue, known 
as the Denny home, which was occupied by the 
family until a few years ago, when they moved 
to Fremont and later to the house where Mr. 
Denny died, in Licton Park, some distance 
north of Green Lake. 

Until about ten years ago David T. Denny 
was considered the wealthiest man in Seattle. 
His large property in the north end of the city 
had been the source of more and more revenue 
as the town grew. When the needs of the town 
became those of a big city he hastened to supply 

[229] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

them with energy and money. His mill on the 
shores of Lake Union was the largest in the 
city, when Seattle was first known as a milling 
town. The establishment of an electric light 
plant and a water supply to a part of the city 
were among the enterprises which he headed. 

The cable and horse car roads were consoli- 
dated into a company headed by D. T. Denny 
more than a decade ago. In the effort to supply 
the company with the necessary funds Mr. Den- 
ny attempted to convert much of his property 
into cash. At that time an estimate of his re- 
sources was made by a close personal friend, 
who yesterday said that the amount was con- 
siderably over three million dollars, which in- 
cluded his valuable stock in the traction com- 
panies. In the hard times of '93 Mr. Denny was 
unable to realize the apparent value of his prop- 
erty, and a considerable reduction of his fortune 
was a result. Since then he has been to a great 
extent engaged in mining in the Cascade moun- 
tains, and for the past three years has been 
closely confined to his home by a serious illness. 

Among the gifts of D. T. Denny to the city 
of Seattle is Denny Park. Denny Way, the 
Denny school and other public places in Seattle 
bear his name. D. T. Denny was a liberal Re- 
publican always. He was at one time a member 
of the board of regents of the territorial univer- 
sity, the first treasurer of King county, probate 
judge for two years and for twelve years a school 

[230] 



DAVID THOMAS DENNY. 

director of District No. 1, comprising the city 
of Seattle. 

Several of those who were associated with 
David T. Denny during the time when he was 
in active business and a strong factor in local 
affairs have offered estimates of his character 
and of the part he took in the founding and 
building of the city: Said Col. William T. 
Prosser : 

"It is sad to think that David T. Denny 
will no more be seen upon the streets of the city 
he assisted in founding more than fifty years 
ago. During all that time he was closely identi- 
fied with its varying periods of danger, delayed 
hopes and bitter disappointments, as well as 
those of marvelous growth, activity and pros- 
perity. The changing features of the city were 
reflected in his own personal history. The waves 
of prosperity and adversity both swept over him, 
yet throughout his entire career he always main- 
tained his integrity and through it all he bore 
himself as an energetic and patriotic citizen and 
as a Christian gentleman." 

Judge Thomas Burke: 

"D. T. Denny had great faith in Seattle, 
and his salient characteristic was his readiness 
in pushing forward its welfare. I remember 
him having an irreproachable character — honest, 
just in all his dealings and strong in his spirit. 
In illustration of his strong feeling on the tem- 
perance question I remember that he embodied 

£231] 



BLAZIKG THE WAY. 

a clause in the early deeds of the property which 
he sold to the effect that no intoxicating liquors 
were to be sold upon the premises. Yes, he was 
a good citizen." 

Charles A. Prosch: 

"Although Mr. Denny's later years were 
clouded by financial troubles, reverses did not 
soil his spirit nor change his integrity. He was 
progressive to the last and one of the most up- 
right men I know." 

D. B. Ward: 

"I first met David Denny in 1859 and I 
have known him more or less intimately ever 
since. I know him to have possessed strict in- 
tegrity, unswerving purpose and cordial hospi- 
tality. My first dinner in Seattle was eaten at 
his home — where a baked salmon fresh from 
the Sound was an oddity to me. His financial 
troubles some years ago grew out of his undaunt- 
ed public spirit. He was president of the first 
consolidated street car system here, and in his 
efforts to support it most of his property was 
confiscated. I knew him for a strong, able 
man." 

Judge Orange Jacobs: 

"Mr. Denny was a quiet man, but he car- 
ried the stamp of truth. He was extremely gen- 
erous, and as I remember, he possessed a fine 
mind. In his death I feel a personal, poignant 
grief." 

Eev. W. S. Harrington: 

[232] 



DAVID THOMAS DENNY. 

"D. T. Denny was a man of much more than 
average ability. He thought much and deeply 
on all questions which affected the welfare of 
man. He was retiring and his strength was 
known to few. But his integrity was thorough 
and transparent and his purpose inflexible. 
Even though he suffered, his spirit was never 
bitter toward his fellows, and his benefactions 
were numerous. Above all, he was a Christian 
and believed in a religion which he sought to 
live, not to exhibit. His long illness was borne 
with a patience and a sweetness which com- 
manded my deep respect and admiration." 

Samuel L. Crawford: 

"A man with the courage to fight for his 
convictions of right and with a marvelous capac- 
ity for honest work — such is the splendid herit- 
age David T. Denny has left to his sorrowing 
family. When but 19 years of age he walked 
from the Columbia river to Puget Sound, dri- 
ving a small band of stock ahead of him through 
the brush. 

"No sooner had his party settled and the log 
cabin been completed than David commenced 
looking for more work, and, like all others who 
seek diligently, he was successful, for early in 
December of that year the brig Leonesa, Capt. 
Daniel S. Howard, stopped at AM Point, seek- 
ing a cargo of piling for San Francisco. David 
T. Denny, William N. Bell, C. D. Boren, C. C. 
Terry, J. N. Low, A. A. Denny and Lee Terry 

[233] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

took the contract of cutting the piling and load- 
ing the vessel, which they accomplished in about 
two weeks, a remarkably short time, when the 
weather and the lack of teams and other facili- 
ties are taken into consideration. 

" Other vessels came for cargo and Mr. 
Denny became an expert woodsman, helping to 
supply them with piling from the shores. In 
1852 Mr. Denny, in company with his brother 
Arthur and some others, came over to Elliott Bay 
and laid the foundation of Seattle, the great city 
of the future. Mr. Denny, being a bachelor, took 
the most northerly claim, adjoining that of W. 
N". Bell, and built a cabin near the shore, at the 
foot of what is now Denny Way. The Indians 
being troublesome, he moved into a small house 
beside that of his brother on the site of the pres- 
ent Stevens Hotel. 

"In the meantime he married a sister of C. 
D. Boren, and a small family commenced to 
spring up around him, thus requiring larger 
quarters. In 1871 Mr. Denny built a large frame 
house on the southwest shore of Lake Union, on 
a beautiful knoll. He cleared up a large portion 
of his claim, and for many years engaged in 
farming and stock-raising. He afterward built 
a palatial home on his property at the foot of 
Queen Anne Hill, midway between Lake Union 
and the Sound, but this he occupied only a short 
time. In 1852, in company with his brother 
Arthur, Mr. Denny discovered Salmon Bay. 

[234] 



DAVID THOMAS DENNY. 

"Mr. Denny was a just man and always 
dealt fairly with the Indians. For this reason 
the Indians learned to love and respect him, and 
for many years they have gone to him to settle 
their disputes and help them out of their diffi- 
culties with the whites and among themselves. 

"As Seattle grew, David Denny platted 
much of his claim and sold it off in town lots. 
He built the Western mill at the south end of 
Lake Union and engaged extensively in the 
building and promotion of street railways. He 
had too many irons in the fire, and when the 
panic came in 1892-3 it crippled him financially, 
but he gave up his property, the accumulation of 
a lifetime of struggle and work, to satisfy his 
creditors, and went manfully to work in the 
mountains of Washington to regain his lost for- 
tune. His heroic efforts were rapidly being 
crowned with success, as he is known to have 
secured a number of mines of great promise, on 
which he has done a large amount of develop- 
ment work during the past few years. 

"In the death of David T. Denny, Seattle 
loses an upright, generous worker, who has al- 
ways contributed of his brain, brawn and cash 
for the upbuilding of the city of which he was 
one of the most important founders.' ' 

DEXTEK HORTON'S TRIBUTE. 

" 'I have known Mr. Denny for fifty years. 
A mighty tree has fallen. He was one of the best 

[235] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

men, of highest character and principle, this city 
ever claimed. as a citizen. That is enough." 

"By Father F. X. Prefontaine, of the 
Church of Our Lady of Good Help: 'I have 
known Mr. Denny about thirty-six or thirty- 
seven years. I always liked him, though I was 
more intimately acquainted with his brother, 
Hon. A. A. Denny, and his venerable father, 
John Denny. His father in his time impressed 
me as a fine gentleman, a great American. He 
was a man who was always called upon at public 
meetings for a speech and he was a deeply 
earnest man, so much so that tears often showed 
in his eyes while he was addressing the people.' 

"Hon. Boyd J. Tallman, judge of the Su- 
perior Court: 'I have only known Mr. Denny 
since 1889, and I always entertained the highest 
regard for him. He was a man of firm convic- 
tion and principle and was always ready to up- 
hold them. Though coming here to help found 
the town, he was always ready to advocate and 
stand for the principle of prohibition and tem- 
perance on all occasions. While there were 
many who could not agree with him in these 
things, every manly man felt bound to accord 
to Mr. Denny honesty of purpose and respect for 
the sincerity of his opinion. I believe that in 
his death a good man has gone and this com- 
munity has suffered a great loss.' 



[236] 



DAVID THOMAS DENNY. 

C. B. BAGLEY TALKS. 

"Clarence B. Bagley, who as a boy and 
man has known Mr. Denny for almost the full 
number of years the latter lived at Seattle, was 
visibly overcome at the news of his death. Mr. 
Bagley would gladly have submitted a more ex- 
tended estimate than he did of Mr. Denny's life 
and character, but he was just hurrying into 
court to take his place as a juryman. 

" 'Mr. Denny was one of the best men Se- 
attle ever had. He was a liberal man, ever ready 
to embark his means in enterprises calculated to 
upbuild and aid in the progress of Seattle. He 
was a man of strong convictions, strong almost 
to obstinacy in upholding and maintaining 
cherished principles he fully believed. 

" 'Mr. Denny suffered reverses through his 
willingness to establish enterprises for the good 
of the whole city. He built the Western Mill at 
Lake Union when the location was away in the 
woods, and eventually lost a great deal of money 
in it during the duller periods of the city's life. 
He also lost a great deal of money in giving this 
city a modern street railway system. His char- 
acter as an honorable man and Christian always 
stood out boldly, his integrity of purpose never 
questioned.' 

"Lawrence J. Colman, son of J. M. Colman, 
the pioneer, said : ' Our family has known Mr. 
Denny for thirty-one years, ever since coming to 
Seattle. We regarded him as an absolutely up- 

[237] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

right, conscientious and Christian man, notwith- 
standing the reverses that came to him, in whom 
our confidence was supreme, and one who did 
not require his character to be upheld, for it 
shone brightly at all times by its own lustre. ' 



SAMUEL COOMBS TALKS. 



u 



S. F. Coombs, the well-known pioneer, had 
known Mr. Denny since 1859, about forty-five 
years. i It was to Mr. Denny,' said Mr. Coombs, 
'that the Indians who lived here and knew him 
always went for advice and comfort and to have 
their disputes settled. Their high estimate of 
the man was shown in many ways, where the 
whites were under consideration. Mr. Denny 
was a man whom I always admired and greatly 
respected. He afforded me much information 
of the resident Indians here and around Salmon 
Bay, as he was intimately acquainted with them 
all. 

" 'At one time Mr. Denny was reckoned as 
Seattle's wealthiest citizen. When acting as 
deputy assessor for Andrew Chilberg, the city 
lying north of Mill Street, now Yesler Way, was 
my district to assess. Denny's holdings, D. T. 
Denny's plats, had the year previous been as- 
sessed by the acre. The law was explicit, and to 
have made up the assessment by the acre would 
have been illegal. Mr. Denny's assessed value 
the year before was fifty thousand dollars. The 
best I could do was to make the assessment by 

[238] 



DAVID THOMAS DENNY. 

the lot and block. For the year I assessed two 
hundred and fifty thousand. Recourse was had 
to the county commissioners, but the assessment 
remained about the same. Just before his pur- 
chase of the Seattle street car system he was the 
wealthiest man in King County, worth more than 
five hundred thousand dollars. 

" 'Of Mr. Denny it may be said that if 
others had applied the Golden Rule as he did, he 
would have been living in his old home in great 
comfort in this city today. ' 

LIFE OF DAVID DENNY. 

" Fifty-two years and two months ago David 
Thomas Denny came to Seattle, to the spot where 
Seattle now stands enthroned upon her seven 
hills. Mr. Denny, the last but one of the little 
band of pioneers — some half dozen men first to 
make this spot their home — has been gathered to 
his fathers; 'has wrapped the mantle of his 
shroud about him and laid down to pleasant 
dreams.' Gone is a man and citizen who per- 
haps loved Seattle best of all those who ever 
made Seattle their home. This is attested by the 
fact that from the time that Mr. Denny first came 
to Elliott Bay it has been his constant home. 
Never but once or twice during that long period 
of time did he go far away, and then for but a 
very short time. Once he went as far away as 
New York — and that proved a sad trip — and 
once, in recent years, to California. Both trips 

[239] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

were comparatively brief, and he who first con- 
quered the primeval forest that crowned the 
hills around returned home full of intense long- 
ing to get back and full of love for the old home. 

"Mr. Denny lived a rugged, honorable, up- 
right life — the life of a patriarch. He bore pa- 
tiently a long period of intense suffering man- 
fully and withour murmur, and when the end 
approached he calmly awaited the summons and 
died as if falling away into a quiet sleep. So he 
lived, so he died. 

"Few indeed who can comprehend the ex- 
tent of his devotion to Seattle. Living in Seattle 
for the last two years, yet for that period he 
never looked once upon the city which he helped 
to build. About that long ago he moved from his 
home which he had maintained for some years at 
Fremont, to the place where he died, Licton 
Springs, about a mile north of Green Lake. Said 
Mr. Denny as he went from the door of the old 
home he was giving up for the new : ' This will 
be the last time I will ever look upon Seattle/ 
and Mr. Denny's words were true. He never was 
able to leave again the little sylvan home his fam- 
ily — his wife, sister and children — had raised 
for him in the woods. There, dearly loved, he 
was watched over and cared for by the children 
and by the wife who had shared with him for two- 
score-and-ten years the joys and sorrows, the 
ups and downs that characterized his life in a 
more marked degree than was the experience of 

[240] 







SONS OF D. T. AND LOUISA DENNY 
Victor W. S. D. Thomas John B. 



DAVID THOMAS DENNY. 

any other of the pioneers who first reached this 
rugged bay. 

"Mr. Denny was once, not so very long ago, 
a wealthy man — some say the wealthiest in the 
city — but he died poor, very poor; but he paid 
his debts to the full. Once the owner in fee sim- 
ple of land upon which are now a thousand beau- 
tiful Seattle homes, he passed on to his account 
a stranger in a strange land, and without title to 
his own domicile. When the crisis and the crash 
came that wrecked his fortune he went stoutly 
to work, and if he ever repined it was not known 
outside of the family and small circle of chosen 
friends. That was about fourteen years ago, and 
up to two years ago Mr. Denny toiled in an hum- 
ble way, perhaps never expecting, never hoping 
to regain his lost fortune. Those last years of 
labor were spent, for the most part, at the Denny 
Mine on Gold Creek, a mine, too, in which he had 
no direct interest or ownership, or in directing 
work upon the Snoqualmie Pass road. He came 
down from the hills to his sick bed and to his 
death. 

"Mr. Denny's life for half a century is the 
history of the town. Without the Dennys there 
might have been no Seattle. Of all the band that 
came here in the fall of 1851, they seemed to have 
taken deepest root and to have left the stamp of 
their name and individuality which is keen and 
patent to this day. 

9- f241] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 4 

CAME FKOM ILLINOIS. 

"The Dennys came from Illinois, from some 
place near Springfield, and crossing Iowa, ren- 
dezvoused at what was then Kanesville, now 
Council Bluffs. They came by way of Fort Hall 
and the South Pass, along the south side of the 
Snake River, where, at or near American Falls, 
they had their first and only brush with the In- 
dians. There was only desultory firing and no 
one was injured. The party reached The Dalles 
August 11, 1851. The party separated there, 
Low, Boren and A. A. Denny going by river to 
Portland, arriving August 22. In September, 
Low and D. T. Denny drove a herd of cattle, 
those that drew them across the plains, to Che- 
halis Eiver to get them to a good winter range. 
These men came on to the Sound and here they 
arrived before the end of that month. After 
looking around some, Low went away, having 
hired Mr. Denny, who was an unmarried man, 
to stay behind and build Low a cabin. This was 
done and on September 28th, 1851, the founda- 
tion of this first cabin was laid close to the beach 
at Alki Point. 

"A. A. Denny, Low, Boren, Bell and C. C. 
Terry arrived at Alki Point, joining D. T. Den- 
ny. That made a happy little family, twenty- 
four persons, twelve men and women, twelve chil- 
dren and one cabin. In this they all resided un- 
til the men could erect a second log cabin. By 
this time the immediate vicinity of the point had 

[,242] 



DAVID THOMAS DENNY. 

been stripped of its building logs and the men 
had to go back and split shakes and carry them 
out of the woods on their backs. With these they 
erected two ' shake' or split cedar houses that, 
with the two log cabins, provided fair room for 
the twenty-four people. 

" During that winter the men cut and loaded 
a small brig with piles for San Francisco. The 
piles were cut near the water and rolled and 
dragged by hand to where they would float to the 
vessel's side. There were no oxen in the country 
at that time and the first team that came to Elliott 
Bay was driven along the beach at low tide from 
up near Tacoma. 

SURROUNDED BY INDIANS. 

"The first winter spent at Alki Point the 
settlers were almost constantly surrounded with 
one thousand Indians armed with old Hudson 
Bay Company's muskets. This company main- 
tained one of its posts at Nisqually, Pierce Coun- 
ty, and traded flintlocks and blankets with the 
Indians all over Western Washington, taking in 
trade their furs and skins. The Indians from 
far and near hearing of the settlement of whites 
came and camped on the beach nearly the whole 
winter. 

"In addition to the Indians of this bay the 
Muckleshoots, Green Rivers, Snoqualmies, Tulal- 
ips, Port Madisons and likely numerous other 
bands were on hand. At one time the Muckle- 

[243] 



BLAZING THE WAT. 

shoots and Snoqualmies lined up in front of the 
little cluster of whites and came near engaging 
in a battle, having become enraged at one an- 
other. The whites acted as peacemakers and no 
blood was spilled. 

In those days the government gave what was 
known as donation claims, one hundred sixty 
acres to a man, and an equal amount to the wom- 
en. In the spring of 1852 the Dennys, Bell and 
Boren, came over to this side and took donation 
claims. Boren located first on the south, his line 
being at about the line of Jackson Street. A. A. 
Denny came next and Bell third. Shortly after 
D. T. Denny located, taking a strip of ground 
from the bay back to Lake Union and bounded 
by lines north and south which tally about with 
Denny Way on the south and Mercer Street on 
the north. Later Mr. Denny bought the eastern 
shore of Lake Union, extending from the lake to 
the portage between Union and Washington. 

"Mr. Denny's first house on this side of the 
bay, built presumably in the spring of 1852, was 
located on the beach at the foot of what is now 
Denny Way in North Seattle. This was a one- 
story log cabin. It was on the bluff overlooking 
the bay and the woods hemmed it in, and it was 
only by cutting and slashing that one could open 
a way back into the forest. 

me. denny's farm. 

"Some time later Mr. Denny begun his orig- 
inal clearing for a farm at what is now the vi- 

[244] 



DAVID THOMAS DENNY. 

cinity of Third Avenue North and Republican 
Street, and also in the early years of residence 
here — about 1860 or 1861 — built a home on the 
site of what is now occupied by modern business 
houses at Second Avenue and Seneca Street. 

"It seems to have been Mr. Denny's plan to 
work out on his farm at Third Avenue and Re- 
publican Street during the dry summer season 
and to reside down in the settlement in the win- 
ter. The farm at Third Avenue and Republican 
Street grew apace until in after years it be- 
came the notable spot in all the district of what 
is now North Seattle. After the arrival on the 
coast of the Chinaman it was leased to them for 
a number of years, and became widely known as 
the China gardens. Mr. Denny does not seem 
to have planted orchard to any extent here, but at 
Second and Seneca he had quite an orchard. 
Forming what later became a part of the original 
D. T. Denny farm was a large tract of open, bog- 
gy land running well through the center of Mr. 
Denny's claim from about Third Avenue down 
to Lake Union. This was overgrown largely with 
willow and swamp shrubs. In ancient times it 
was either a lake or beaver marsh, and long after 
the whites came, ducks frequented the place. The 
house built at Second Avenue and Seneca Street 
by Mr. Denny was a small one-story structure of 
three or four rooms. 

"In 1871 Mr. Denny built another home- 
stead of the D. T. Denny family at this place. It 

[245] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

was, after its completion, one of the most com- 
modious and important houses in the city. This 
house was built overlooking Lake Union, instead 
of the bay. The site selected was on what is now 
Dexter Avenue and Republican Street. This 
house still stands, a twelve or fourteen-room 
house, surrounded by orchard and grounds. 

BUILT A NEW HOME. 

"Mr. Denny lived at the Lake Union home 
until just after the big fire here in 1889, when he 
began the erection and completed a fine mansion 
on Queen Anne Avenue, with fine grounds, but 
he did not long have the pleasure of residing 
here. The unfortunate business enterprises in 
which he soon found himself engulfed, swept 
away his vast wealth, and ' Honest Dave,' as he 
had become familiarly to be known, was left 
without a place wherein to rest his head. 

These tributes also recite something of the 
story of his life : 

"He was one of the original locators of do- 
nation claims on Elliott Bay, within the pres- 
ent limits of Seattle. The two Dennys, David 
and his brother, Arthur, now deceased ; Dr. May- 
nard, Carson D. Boren and W. N. Bell, were the 
first locators of the land upon which the main 
portion of Seattle now rests. All of them, save 
Boren, have passed away, and Boren has not 
lived in Seattle for many years ; so it may be said 
that David Denny was the last of the Seattle pio- 

£246] 



DAVID THOMAS DENNY. 

neers. Of his seventy-one years of life, fifty- 
two were passed on Puget Sound and fifty-one in 
the City of Seattle, in the upbuilding of which 
he bore a prominent part. 

" With his original donation claim and lands 
subsequently acquired, Mr. Denny was for many 
years the heaviest property owner in actual acre- 
age in Seattle. Most of his holdings had passed 
into the hands of others before his death. In his 
efforts to build up the city he engaged in the pro- 
motion of many large enterprises, and was carry- 
ing large liabilities, although well within the 
limit of his financial ability, when the panic of 
ten years ago rendered it impossible to realize 
upon any property of any value, and left equities 
in real property covered even by light mortgages, 
absolutely valueless. In that disastrous period 
he, among all Seattle's citizens, was stricken the 
hardest blow, but he never lost the hope or the 
energy of the born pioneer, nor faith in the des- 
tinies of the city which he had helped to f ound. 
His name remains permanently affixed to many 
of the monuments of Seattle, and he will pass into 
history as one of the men who laid the founda- 
tions of one of the great cities of the world, and 
who did much in erecting the superstructure." 

"In the enthusiasms of early life the am- 
bitious men and women of America turn their 
faces toward 'the setting sun' and bravely as- 
sume the task of building homes in uninhabited 
places and transforming the wilderness into pros- 

[247] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

perous communities. Those who undertake such 
work are to be listed among God's noblemen — for 
without such men little progress would be made 
in the development of any country. 

"For more than a hundred years one of the 
interesting features of life in the United States 
is that connected with pioneering. The men and 
women of energy are usually possessed with an 
adventurous spirit which chafes under the fixed 
customs and inflexible conservatism of the older 
communities, and longs to take a hand in crowd- 
ing the frontier toward the Pacific. 

"The poet has said that only the brave start 
out West and only the strong success in getting 
there. Thus it is that those, who, more than a 
half century ago, elected to cross the American 
continent were from the bravest of the eastern or 
middle portion of the United States. Many who 
started turned back ; others died by the wayside. 
Only the ' strong' reached their destination. 

"Of this class was the small party which 
landed at Alki Point in the late summer of 1851 
and began the task of building up a civilization 
where grew the gigantic forests and where 
roamed the dusky savage. Of that number was 
David T. Denny, the last survivor but one, C. D. 
Boren, of the seven men who composed the first 
white man's party to camp on the shores of El- 
liott Bay. 

"It requires some stretch of the imagination 
to view the surroundings that enveloped that 

[248] 



DAVID THOMAS DENNY. 

band of hardy pioneers and to comprehend the 
magnitude of the task that towered before them. 
It was no place for the weak or faint-hearted. 
There was work to do — and no one shirked. 

" Since then more than fifty years have come 
and gone, and from the humble beginnings made 
by David T. Denny and the others has grown a 
community that is the metropolis of the Pacific 
Northwest and which, a few years hence, will be 
the metropolis of the entire Pacific Coast. That 
this has been the product of these initial efforts 
is due in a large measure to the energy, the ex- 
ample, the business integrity and public spirit 
of him whose demise is now mourned as that of 
the last but one of the male survivors of that lit- 
tle party of pioneers of 1851. 

"The history of any community can be told 
in the biographies of a few of the leading men 
connected with its affairs. The history of Seattle 
can be told by writing a complete biography of 
David T. Denny. He was among the first to rec- 
ognize that here was an eligible site for a great 
city. He located a piece of land with this object 
in view and steadfastly he clung to his purpose. 
When a public enterprise was to be planned that 
would redound to the growth and prestige of Se- 
attle he was at the front, pledging his credit and 
contributing of his means. 

"Then came a time in the growth of cities on 
the Pacific Coast when the spirit of speculation 
appeared to drive men mad. Great schemes were 

9a- T249] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

laid and great enterprises planned. Some of 
them were substantial; some of them were not. 
With a disposition to do anything honorable that 
would contribute to the glory of Seattle, David 
T. Denny threw himself into the maelstrom with 
all of his earthly possessions and took chances 
of increasing his already handsome fortune. 
Then came the panic of 1893 and Mr. Denny was 
among many other Seattle men who emerged 
from the cataclysm without a dollar. 

" Subsequent years made successful the en- 
terprise that proved the financial ruin of so many 
of Seattle's wealthy, but it was too late for those 
who had borne the brunt of the battle. Others 
came in to reap where the pioneers had sown and 
the latter were too far along in years to again 
take up the struggle of accumulating a com- 
petence. His declining years were passed in the 
circle of loving friends who never failed to speak 
of him as the personification of honesty and in- 
tegrity and one whose noble traits of character 
in this respect were worthy of all emulation." 

The following is an epitaph written for his 
tomb: 

" David Thomas Denny, Born March 17th, 
1832, Died Nov. 25th, 1903. The first of the name 
to reach Puget Sound, landing at Duwampsh 
Head, Sept. 25th, 1851. A great pioneer from 
whose active and worthy life succeeding genera- 
tions will reap countless benefits." 

"He giveth his beloved sleep." 

[250] 



DAVID THOMAS DENNY. 

The early days of the State, or rather, Ter- 
ritory, of Washington produced a distinct type 
of great men, one of whom was David Thomas 
Denny. 

Had Washington a poet to tell of the achieve- 
ments of her heroic founders and builders a con- 
siderable epic would be devoted to the remark- 
able career and character of this noble man. 

At the risk of repetition I append this slight 
recapitulation : 

The first of the name to set foot on Puget 
Sound, Oregon Territory, September 25th, 1851, 
he then evinced the characteristics more fully de- 
veloped in after years. 

He had crossed the plains and then from 
Portland proceeded to Puget Sound by the old 
Hudson Bay trail. He landed at Duwampsh 
Head where now is West Seattle, and there met 
and shook hands with Chief Sealth, or old Seattle 
as the whites called him. He helped to build 
the first cabin home at AIM Point. He alone was 
the Committee of Reception when the notable 
party landed from the " Exact." He ran the 
race of the bravest of the brave pioneers. 

Beginning at the very bottom of the ladder, 
he worked with his hands, as did the others, at 
every sort of work to be found in a country en- 
tirely unimproved. 

A ready axman, a very Nimrod, a natural 
linguist, he began the attack on the mighty f or- 

,[251] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

est, lie slew wild animals and birds for food, lie 
made friends with the native tribes. 

He builded, planted, harvested, helped to 
found schools, churches, government and civ- 
ilized society. Always and everywhere he em- 
bodied and upheld scriptural morality and tem- 
perance. 

Many now living could testify to his untir- 
ing service to the stranded newcomers. Employ- 
ment, money, credit, hospitality, time, advice, he 
gave freely to help and encourage the settlers fol- 
lowing the pioneers. 

He was Probate Judge, County Treasurer, 
City Councilman, Eegent of the University, 
School Director for twelve years, etc., etc. He 
administered a number of estates with extreme 
care and faithfulness. 

David T. Denny early realized that Seattle 
was a strategic site for a great city and by thrifty 
investments in wild land prepared for settlements 
sure to come. 

After long years of patient toil, upright 
dealing and wise management, he began to ac- 
cumulate until his property was worth a fortune. 

With increasing wealth his generosity in- 
creased and he gave liberally to carry on all the 
institutions of a civilized community. 

David T. Denny gave " Denny Park" to the 
City of Seattle. 

Denny school was named for him, as is per- 
fectly well known to many persons. 

[252] 



DAVID THOMAS DENNY. 

As prosperity increased lie became more ac- 
tive in building the city and lavished energy, toil, 
property and money, installing public enter- 
prises and utilities, such as water supply, elec- 
tric lights, a large sawmill, banks, street rail- 
ways, laying off additions to the city, grading and 
improvements, etc., etc. 

Then came 1893, the black year of trade. 
Thousands lost all they possessed. David T. 
Denny suffered a martyrdom of disappointment, 
humiliation, culumny, extreme and undeserved 
reproach from those who crammed themselves 
with securities, following the great money panic 
in which his immense holdings passed into the 
hands of others. 

He was a soldier of the Indian war and was 
on guard near the door of Fort Decatur when the 
memorable attack took place on January 26th, 
1856. The fort was built of timbers hewn by 
D. T. Denny and two others, taken from his do- 
nation claim. These timbers were brought to 
Seattle, then a little settlement of about three 
hundred people. There he helped to build the 
fort. 

Many persons have expressed a desire to see 
a fitting memorial erected to the memory of Se- 
attle's " Fairy Prince," Founder and Defender, 
David Thomas Denny. 

I feel the inadequacy of these fragmentary 
glimpses of the busy life of this well known pio- 
neer. I have not made a set arrangement of the 

[253] 



BLAZING THE WAY, 

material as I wished to preserve the testimony of 
others, hence there appear some reptitions; an 
accurate and intimate biography may come in 
the future. 

Logically, his long, active, useful life in the 
Northwest, might be divided into epochs on this 
wise: 

1st. The log cabin and " claim" era, in 
which, within my own memory, he was seen toil- 
ing early and late, felling the forest giants, cul- 
tivating the soil, superintending Indian workers 
and bringing in game, killed with his rifle. 

2nd. The farm-home era, when he built a 
substantial house on his part of the donation 
claim, near the south end of Lake Union, ob- 
tained cattle (famous Jersey stock of Califor- 
nia), horses, etc. The home then achieved by 
himself and his equally busy wife, was one to be 
desired, surrounded as it was by beautiful flow- 
ers, orchards, wide meadows and pastures, and 
outside these, the far-spreading primeval forest. 

3rd. Town-building. The west end of the 
claim, belonging to Louisa Denny, was first 
platted ; other plats followed, as may be seen by 
reference to Seattle records. Commercial oppor- 
tunities loomed large and he entered upon many 
promising enterprises. All these flourished for a 
time. 

4th. 1893. The failure of Baring Bros., as 
he told me repeatedly, began it — theirs being the 
result of having taken bonds of the Argentine 

[254] 



DAVID THOMAS DENNY. 

Bepublic, and a revolution happening along, 
$100,000,000.00 went by the board; a sizable 
failure. 

Partly on account of this and partly on ac- 
count of the vast advantage of the lender over 
the borrower, and partly through the vast anxiety 
of those who held his securities, they were able 
to distribute among themselves his hard-earned 
fortune. 

"A certain man went down from Jerusalem 
to Jericho and fell among thieves, which stripped 
him of his raiment and wounded him and depart- 
ed leaving him half dead." 

The Deficiency Judgment also loomed large 
and frequent and his last days were disturbed 
by those who still pressed their greedy claims, 
even following after his death, with a false, un- 
just and monstrous sale of the cemetery in which 
he lies buried! 

But he is with the just men made perfect. 

Law, custom and business methods have per- 
mitted, from time immemorial, gross injustice to 
debtors ; formerly they were imprisoned ; a man 
might speedily pay his debts, if in prison! 

The Deficiency Judgment and renewal of the 
same gives opportunity for greedy and unprin- 
cipled creditors to rob the debtor. There should 
be a law compelling the return of the surplus. 
When one class of people make many times their 
money out of the misfortunes of others, there is 
manifestly great inequality. 

£255] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

The principles of some are to grab all they 
can, "skin" all they can, and follow up all they 
can even to the graveyard. 

"THESE THINGS OUGHT NOT SO TO BE." 

5th. In the end he laid down all earthly 
things, and in spite of grief and suffering, showed 
a clear perception and grasp of justice, mercy 
and truth. 



[256] 




LOUISA B. DENNY 



CHAPTER IV 

THE FIKST WEDDING ON ELLIOTT BAY. 

Concerning this notable occurrence many in- 
teresting incidents were recorded by an inter- 
viewer who obtained the same from the lips of 
David Thomas Denny. 

"On January 23rd, 1895, Mr. and Mrs. David 
T. Denny celebrated their forty-second wedding 
anniversary — and the anniversary of the first 
wedding in Seattle — in their home at ' Decatur 
Terrace' (512 Temperance Street), Seattle, with 
a gathering of children, grandchildren, relatives 
and friends that represented four distinctive 
generations. 

"One of the notable features of the evening 
was the large gathering of pioneers who collec- 
tively represented more years of residence in 
Seattle than ever were found together before. 

"What added interest to the occasion was 
the historical fact that Mr. and Mrs. Denny were 
the first couple married in Seattle, and the trans- 
ition from the small, uncouth log cabin, built for- 
ty-three years ago by the sturdy young pioneer 
for his bride, to the present beautiful residence 
with all its modern convenience in which the re- 
spected couple are enjoying the fruits of a well 
spent life, was the subject of many congratula- 
tions from the friends of the honored host and 

1257] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

hostess who remembered their early trials and 
tribulations. All present were more or less con- 
nected with the history of Seattle, all knew one 
another's history, and with their children and 
grandchildren the gathering, unconventional in 
every respect, with the two-year-old baby romp- 
ing in the arms of the octogenarian, presented a 
colossal, happy family reunion. 

"The old pioneer days were not forgotten, 
and one corner of the reception room was made 
to represent the interior of a cabin, lined with 
newspapers, decorated with gun, bullet pouch 
and powder horn and measure, a calico sunbon- 
net, straw hat and hunting shirt. 

"A table was set to represent one in the 
early fifties, namely, two boards across two boxes, 
for a table, a smoked salmon, a tin plate full of 
boiled potatoes, some sea biscuits and a few large 
clams. Such a meal, when it was had, was sup- 
posed to be a feast. 

"Many other relics were in sight; a thirty- 
two pound solid shot, fired by the sloop-of-war 
Decatur among the Indians during the uprising ; 
a ten-pound shot belonging to Dr. Maynard's can- 
non; a pair of enormous elk's horns belonging to 
a six hundred and thirty-pound elk killed by Mr. 
D. T. Denny, September 7th, 1869, in the woods 
north west of Green Lake ; the first Bible of the 
family from which the eldest daughter, Miss 
Emily Inez, learned her letters ; an old-fashioned 
Indian halibut hook, an ingenious contrivance; 

[258] 



FIRST WEDDING ON ELLIOTT BAY. 

an old family Bible, once the property of the 
father of David T. Denny, bearing the following 
inscription on the inside cover : 

"The property of J. Denny, 

Purchased of J. Strange, 

August the 15th, 1829, 

Price 62% cents. 

Putnam County, Indiana." 

"Also a number of daguerreotypes of Mr. 
and Mrs. D. T. Denny in the early years of their 
married life, taken in the fifties, and one of W. G. 
Latimer and his sister. 

"All these and many more afforded food for 
conversation and reminiscences on the part of 
the old pioneers present. 

"An informal programme introduced the 
social intercourse of the evening. Harold Denny, 
a grandson of the hosts and son of Mr. John B. 
Denny, made an address to his grandparents, giv- 
ing them the greeting of the assembly in these 
words : 

" fortunate, happy day,' 
The people sing, the people say; 
The bride and bridegroom, pioneers, 
Crowned now with good and gracious years 
Serenely smile upon the scene. 
The growing state they helped to found 
Unto their praise shall yet redound. 
may they see a green old age, 
With every leaf a written page 
Of joy and peace from day to day. 

[259] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

In good, new times not far away 
May people sing and people say, 
* Heaven bless their coming years; 
Honor the noble Pioneers.' " 



a 



The chief diversion was afforded by the 
sudden entrance of a band of sixteen young men 
and women gorgeously dressed as Indians, pre- 
ceded by a runner who announced their ap- 
proach. They were headed by Capt. D. T. 
Davies who acted as chief. The band marched in 
true Indian file, formed a circle and sat down 
on the floor with their 'tamanuse' boards upon 
which they beat the old time music and sang their 
Indian songs. After an impressive hush, the 
chief addressed their white chief, Denny, in the 
Chinook language, wishing Mr. and Mrs. Denny 
many returns of the auspicious occasion. 

"Mr. Denny, who is an adept in the Indian 
languages, replied in the same tongue, thanking 
his dark brethren for their good intentions and 
speaking of the happy relations that always ex- 
isted between the whites and the Indians until 
bad white men and whisky turned the minds and 
brains of the Indians. The council then broke 
up and took their departure. 

"The marriage certificate of Mr. and Mrs. 
Denny is written on heavy blue paper and has 
been so carefully preserved that, beyond the 
slight fading of the ink, it is as perfect as when 
first given in the dense forests on the shores of 
Elliott Bay. It reads as follows : 

[260] 



FIRST WEDDING ON ELLIOTT BAY. 

" 'This may certify that David Denny and 
Louisa Boren were joined in marriage at the resi- 
dence of Arthur A. Denny in the County of King 
and Territory of Oregon, by me in the presence 
of A. A. Denny and wife and others, on this 23rd 
day of January, 1853. D. S. Maynard, J. P. 

" Another historical event, apropos right 
here, was the death and burial of D. S. Maynard 
early in 1873. 

"The funeral services were conducted March 
15, 1873, by Eev. John F. Damon in Yesler's 
pavilion, then located at what is now Cherry and 
Front Streets. The funeral was under the aus- 
pices of St. John's lodge, of which Dr. Maynard 
was a member. The remains were escorted to 
what is now Denny Park — the gift to the city, of 
Mr. David T. Denny — and the casket was de- 
posited and kept in the tool house of that place 
until the trail could be cut to the new Masonic 
— now Lake View — cemetery. Maynard 's body 
was the first interred there. 

"Miss Louisa Boren, who married Mr. David 
T. Denny, was the younger sister of A. A. Den- 
ny's wife and came across the plains with the 
Denny's in 1851. 

"The house of A. A. Denny, in which the 
marriage took place, was located near the foot of 
what is now Bell Street, and was the first cabin 
built by A. A. Denny when he moved over from 
Alki Point. Seattle was then a dense forest down 
to the water's edge, and had at that time, in the 

[261] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

spring of 1852, only three cabins, namely : 0. D. 
Boren's, the bride's brother ; W. N. Bell's and A. 
A. Denny's. Boren's stood where now stands the 
Merchant's National Bank, and Bell's was near 
the foot of Battery Street. 

"At first the forests were so dense that the 
only means of communication was along the 
beach at low tide ; after three or four months, a 
trail was beaten between the three cabins. David 
lived with his brother, but he built himself a 
cabin previous to his marriage, near the foot of 
Denny Way, near and north of Bell's house. To 
this lonely cabin in the woods, he took his bride 
and they lived there until August, 1853, eking out 
an existence like the other pioneers, chopping 
wood, cutting piles for shipment, living on any- 
how, but always managing to have enough to eat, 
such as it was, with plenty of pure spring water. 

"In August, of 1853, he built a cabin on the 
spot where now the Prye Block stands and they 
passed the winter of 1853 there. 

"In the spring of 1854 he built another cabin 
further east on the donation claim, east of what 
is now Box Street, between Mercer and Repub- 
lican, and they moved into it, remaining there 
until near the time of the Indian outbreak. 

"Mr. Denny had acquired a knowledge of the 
various Indian dialects, and through this learned 
much of the threatened outbreak, and moved his 
family in time back to the house on the Frye 
Block site, which was also near the stockade or 

£262] 



FIKST WEDDING ON ELLIOTT BAY. 

fort that stood at the foot of Cherry Street. 
During the greater part of the winter of 1855 the 
women in the setlement lived in the fort, and Mrs. 
Denny passed much of the time there. 

" After the Indian trouble was over the Den- 
ny's moved out again to their outside cabin. The 
Indians making the trouble were the Swunumpsh 
and the Klikitats, from east of the mountains; 
the Sound Indians, the Duwampsh and the Su- 
quampsh, were friendly and helped the whites a 
great deal. Sealth or Seattle belonged to the 
Suquampsh tribe and his men gave the first warn- 
ing of the approach of the hostile Indians. 

"Mr. and Mrs. David T. Denny have had 
eight children, four daughters and four sons. One 
son died shortly after birth, and all theothers grew 
to maturity, after which the father and mother 
were called to mourn the loss of two daughters. 
Two daughters and three sons survive, namely: 
Miss Emily Inez, Mrs. Abbie D. Lindsley, Mr. 
John B. Denny, Mr. D. Thomas Denny and Mr. 
Victor W. S. Denny. 

6 i The sons are all married and nine out of ten 
grandchildren were present last evening to glad- 
den the hearts of Grandpa and Grandma Denny. 
The absent members of the family group were 
Mrs. John B. Denny and daughter, in New York 
on a visit. 

" ' People in these days of modern improve- 
ments and plenty know nothing of the hardships 

[263] 



BLAZING THE "WAY. 

the pioneer of forty years ago had to undergo 
right here, ' said Mr. Denny. 

" Nearly forty years of life in a dense forest 
surrounded by savages and wild beasts, with the 
hardest kind of work necessary in order to eke 
out an existence, was the lot of every man and 
woman here. It was a life of privation, incon- 
veniences, anxieties, fears and dangers innumer- 
able, and required physical and mental strength 
to live it out. Of course, we all had good health, 
for in twenty-four years' time we only had a doc- 
tor four times. Our colony grew little by little, 
good men and bad men came in and by the time 
the Indians wanted to massacre us we had about 
three hundred white men, women and children* 
We got our provisions from ships that took our 
piles and then the Indians also furnished us with 
venison, potatoes, fish, clams and wild fowl. 
Flour, sugar and coffee we got from San Fran- 
cisco. When we could get no flour, we made a 
shift to live on potatoes. ' 

"In speaking of cold weather, Mr. Denny 
recalled the year of 1852, when it was an open 
winter until March 3, but that night fourteen 
inches of snow fell and made it the coldest win- 
ter, all in that one month. The next severe win- 
ter was that of 1861-2, which was about the cold- 
est on record. During those cold spells the pio- 
neers kept warm cutting wood. 

"The unique invitations sent out for this an- 
niversary, consisted of a fringed piece of buck- 

[.264] 



FIRST WEDDING ON ELLIOTT BAY. 

skin stretched over the card and painted '1851, 
Ankuti. 1895, Okoke Sun.' They were well 
responded to, and every room in the large house 
was filled with interested guests, from the baby 
in arms to the white haired friend of the old peo- 
ple. Pioneers were plenty, and it is doubtful if 
there ever was a gathering in the City of Seattle 
that could aggregate so many years of residence 
in the Queen City of the West on the shores of 
Elliott Bay. 

" Arranged according to families, and class- 
ing those as pioneers who came prior to the In- 
dian war of 1855-6, the following list will be 
found of historical value : 

"Rev. and Mrs. D. E. Blaine, pioneers ; A. A. 
Denny, brother of D. T. Denny; Loretta Denny, 
sister of D. T. Denny; Lenora Denny, daughter 
of A. A. Denny; Rev. and Mrs. Daniel Bagley, 
pioneers of 1852, Oregon, Seattle 1860; Mrs. 
Clarence B. Bagley, daughter of Thomas Mercer, 
1852 ; C. B. Bagley, pioneer, 1852 Oregon, Seattle 
1860; Hillory Butler, pioneer; Mrs. Gardner 
Kellogg, daughter of Bonney, Pierce Couxity 
1853; Walter Graham, pioneer; Rev. Geo. P. 
Whitworth, pioneer ; Thomas Mercer, 1852 Ore- 
gon, Seattle 1853; David Graham, 1858; Mrs. 
Susan Graham, daughter of Thomas Mercer; 
Mrs. S. D. Libby, wife of Captain Libby, pioneer ; 
George Frye, 1853 ; Mrs. Katherine Frye, daugh- 
ter of A. A. Denny; Sophie and Bertie Frye, 
granddaughters of A. A. Denny; Mrs. Mamie 

[265] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

Kauffrnan Dawson, granddaughter of Wm. N. 
Bell, pioneer ; Mr. and Mrs. D. B. Ward, pioneers 
(Mrs. Ward, daughter of Charles Byles, of 
Thurston County, 1853) ; Mrs. Abbie D. Linds- 
ley, daughter of D. T. and Louisa Denny; the 
Bryans, all children of Edgar Bryan, a pioneer 
of Thurston County ; J. W. George, pioneer 1852 ; 
Orange Jacobs, pioneer of Oregon. " 

In another chapter it has been shown how 
D. T. Denny was the first of the name to reach 
Puget Sound. Not having yet attained his ma- 
jority he was required to consider, judge and 
act for himself and others. Like the two spies, 
who entered the Promised Land in ancient days, 
Low and Denny viewed the goodly shores of 
Puget Sound for the sake of others by whom 
their report was anxiously awaited. 

As before stated, Low returned to carry the 
tidings of the wonderful country bordering on 
the Inland Sea, while David T. Denny, but nine- 
teen years of age, was left alone, the only white 
person on Elliott Bay, until the Exact came with 
the brave families of the first settlers. From 
that time on he has been in the forefront of pro- 
gress and effort, beginning at the very founda- 
tion of trade, business enterprises, educational in- 
terests, religious institutions and reforms. From 
the early conditions of hard toil in humble occu- 
pations, through faith, foresight and persistence, 
he rose to a leading position in the business 
world, when his means were lavished in modern 

[266] 



FIRST WEDDING ON ELLIOTT BAY. 

enterprises and improvements through which 
many individuals and the general public were 
benefited, said improvements being now in daily 
use in the City of Seattle. 

One of these is the Third Street and Suburb- 
an Electric Railway, built and equipped by this 
energetic pioneer and his sons. 

The old donation claim having become val- 
uable city property, the taxation was heavy to 
meet the expenses of extravagant and wasteful 
administration partly, and partly incidental to 
the phenomenal growth of the city, consequently 
both Mr. and Mrs. D. T. Denny have paid into 
the public treasury a considerable fortune, ten or 
twelve thousand a year for ten years, twenty 
thousand for grades, six thousand at a time for 
school tax and so on — much more than they were 

able to use for themselves. 

■* # * * * * 

A fascinating volume would recount their 
hunting adventures, as all, father and sons, are 
fine shots ; game, both large and small, swarmed 
about the present site of Seattle in the early 
days. 

Indeed, for many years the bounty of Na- 
ture failed not; as late as 1879, ruffed grouse 
or " pheasants," blue grouse, brown and black 
bears were numerous seven or eight miles north 
of Seattle, a region then untenanted wilds. The 
women folk were not always left behind on hunt- 
ing expeditions, and the pioneer mother, and 

[267] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

daughters, too, quite often accompanied them. 

Into this primeval wilderness, to a mineral 
spring known and visited by the Indians in times 
past and called by them Licton, came the father, 
mother and eldest son to enjoy all they might 
discover. The two hunting dogs proved neces- 
sary and important members of the party by 
rousing up a big black bear and her cubs near 
the spring, — but we will let the pioneer mother, 
Mrs. Louisa Denny, tell the tale as she has often 
told it in the yesterdays : 

"We were out in the deep forest at the min- 
eral spring the Indians call ' Licton'; the two 
dogs, Prince and Gyp, treed a black bear cub in 
a tall fir on the farther side of the brook, a little 
way along the trail ; the hunters pressed up and 
fired. Receiving a shot, the cub gave a piercing 
scream and, tumbling down, aroused the old bear, 
which, though completely hidden by the under- 
growth, answered it with an enraged roar that 
sounded so near that the hunters fled without 
ceremony. I sat directly in the path, on the 
ends of some poles laid across the brook for a 
foot bridge, very calmly resting and not at all 
excited — as yet. My boy yelled to me, at the top 
of his voice, 'Get up a tree, mother! get up a 
tree, quick ! The old bear is coming ! ' Hearing 
a turmoil at the foot of the big tree, where the 
dogs, old bear and two cubs were engaged in a 
general melee, I also thought it best to 'get up a 
tree.' We dashed across the brook and climbed 

[268] 



FIRST WEDDING ON ELLIOTT BAY. 

up a medium sized alder tree — the boy first, my- 
self next, and my husband last and not very far 
from the ground. We could hear the bear crash- 
ing around through the tall bushes and ferns, 
growling at every step and only a little way off, 
but she did not come out in sight. The dogs 
came and lay down under the tree where we 
were. Two long, weary hours we watched for 
Bruin, and then, everything being quiet, climbed 
down, stiff and sore, parted the brushes cautious- 
ly and reconnoitered. One climbed up a lean- 
ing tree to get a better view, but there was no 
view to be had, the woods were so thick. We 
crept along softly until we reached the foot of 
the big fir, and there lay the wounded cub, dead ! 
The hunters dragged it a long distance, looking 
back frequently and feeling very uncertain, as 
they had no means of knowing the whereabouts 
of the enemy. I walked behind carrying one of 
the guns. Perhaps I was cruel in asking them 
if they looked behind them when they tacked 
the skin on the barn at home ! However, it was 
certainly a case of discretion better than valor, 
as one weapon was only a shotgun and the rank 
undergrowth gave no advantage. It seemed to 
make everybody laugh when we told of our ad- 
venture, but I did not think the experience alto- 
gether amusing, and I shall never forget that 
mother-bear's roar. They have killed plenty 
of big game since ; my two younger boys shot a 
fine, large black bear whose beautiful skin 

£269] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

adorns my parlor floor and is much admired." 

This is but one incident in the life of a pio- 
neer woman, the greater portion of whose exist- 
ence has been spent in the wilds of the North- 
west. In perils oft, in watchings many, in often 
uncongenial toil, Louisa Boren Denny spent the 
years of her youth and prime, as did the other 
pioneer mothers. 

"What a book the story of my life would 
make!" she exclaimed in a retrospective mood — 
yet, like the majority of the class she typifies, 
she has left the book unwritten, while hand and 
brain have been busy with the daily duties press- 
ing on her. 

A childhood on the beautiful, flower-decekd, 
virgin prairie of Illinois, in the log cabin days 
of that state, the steadfast pursuit of knowledge 
until maturity, when she went out to instruct 
others, the breaking of many ties of friendship 
to accompany her relatives across the plains, the 
joy of new scenes so keenly appreciated by the 
observant mind, the self-denials and suffering 
inevitable to that stupendous journey and the 
reaching of the goal on Puget Sound, at once 
the beginning and the ending of eventful days, 
might be the themes of its opening chapters. 

Her marriage and the rearing of beautiful 
and gifted children, in the midst of the solemn 
and noble solitudes of Nature's great domain, 
where they often wandered together hand in 
hand, she the gentle teacher, they the happy 

[270] 



FIRST WEDDING ON ELLIOTT BAY. 

learners, green boughs and fair blossoms bend- 
ing near — yes, the toil, too, as well as pleasure, 
in which the willing hands wrought and tireless 
feet hastened to and fro in the service of her 
God, all these things I shared in are indelibly 
written on my memory's pages, though they be 
never recorded elsewhere. 

AND WHILE SHE WROUGHT, SHE THOUGHT 

Many times in the latter years, spoken opin- 
ions have shown that she has originated ideas 
of progress and reform that have been subse- 
quently brought before the public as initiative 
and original, but were no less original with her. 

Mrs. Louisa Denny was a member of the 
famous grand jury, with several other women of 
the best standing; during their term the gam- 
blers packed their grip-sacks to leave Seattle, 
as those "old women on the jury" were making 
trouble for them. 

For many years she was called upon or 
volunteered to visit the sick, anon to be present 
at a surgical operation, and with ready response 
and steady nerve complied. 

Generous to a fault, hospitable and kind, in 
countless unknown deeds of mercy and un- 
recorded words, she expressed good-will toward 
humanity, and the recipients, a goodly company, 
might well arise up and call her "Blessed." 

A separate sketch is given in which the life 
of the first bride of Seattle is more fully set 
forth. 

[271] 



CHAPTER V. 

LOUISA BOKEN DENNY, THE FIRST BEIDE OF SEATTLE, 

Was born in White County, Illinois, on the 
1st of June, 1827, and is the daughter of Richard 
Freeman Boren and Sarah Latimer Boren. Her 
father, a young Baptist minister, died when she 
was an infant, and she has often said, "I have 
missed my father all my life." A religious na- 
ture seems to have been inherited, as she has 
also said, "I cannot remember when I did not 
pray to God." 

Her early youth was spent on the great 
prairies, then a veritable garden adorned with 
many beautiful wild flowers, in the log cabin 
with her widowed, pioneer mother, her sister 
Mary and brother Carson. 

She learned to be industrious and thrifty 
without parsimony ; to be simple, genuine, faith- 
ful. In the heat of summer or cold of winter 
she trudged to school, as she loved learning, 
showing, as her mind developed, a natural apti- 
tude and taste for the sciences; chemistry, 
philosophy, botany and astronomy being her 
especial delights. 

Of a striking personal appearance, her fair 
complexion with a deep rose flush in the cheeks, 
sparkling eyes, masses of heavy black hair, 

f.272] 



LOUISA B. DENNY. 

small and perfect figure, would have attracted 
marked attention in any circle. 

Her temperate and wholesome life, never 
given to fashion's follies, retained for her these 
points of beauty far beyond middle life, when 
many have lost all semblance of their youth and 
have become faded and decrepit. 

Her school life merged into the teacher's 
and she took her place in the ranks of the pio- 
neer instructors, who were truly heroic. 

She taught with patience the bare-foot 
urchins, some of whom were destined for great 
things, and boarded 'round as was the primitive 
custom. 

Going to camp meetings in the summer, lec- 
tures and singing schools in the winter were de- 
veloping influences in those days, and primitive 
pleasures were no less delightful; the husking- 
bees, quilting parties and sleigh rides of fifty 
years ago in which she participated. 

In 1851, when she was twenty-four years 
of age, she joined the army of pioneers moving 
West, in the division composed of her mother's 
and step-father's people, her mother having mar- 
ried John Denny and her sister Mary, A. A. 
Denny. 

With what buoyant spirits, bright with hope 
and anticipation, they set out, except for the 
cloud of sorrow that hovered over them for the 
parting with friends they left behind. But they 
soon found it was to be a hard-fought battle. 

10- [273] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

Louisa Boren, the only young, unmarried 
woman of the party, found many things to do 
in assisting those who had family cares. Her 
delight in nature was unlimited, and although 
she found no time to record her observations 
and experiences, her anecdotes and descriptions 
have given pleasure to others in after years. 

She possessed dauntless courage and in the 
face of danger was cool and collected. 

It was she who pleaded for the boat to be 
turned inshore on a memorable night on the Co- 
lumbia River, when they came so near going 
over the falls (the Cascades) owing to the stupe- 
fied condition of the men who had been imbibing 
"Blue Ruin" too freely. 

When the party arrived at AIM Point on 
Puget Sound, although the outlook was not 
cheerful, she busied herself a little while after 
landing in observing the luxuriant and, to her, 
curious vegetation. 

She soon made friends with the Indians and 
succeeded admirably in dealing with them, hav- 
ing patience and showing them kindness, for 
which they were not ungrateful. 

It transpired that the first attempt at build- 
ing on the site of Seattle, so far as known to 
the writer, is to be credited to Louisa Boren and 
another white woman, who crossed Elliott Bay 
in a canoe with Indian paddlers and a large dog 
to protect them from wild animals. They made 
their way through an untouched forest, and the 

[274] 



LOUISA B. DENNY. 

two women cut and laid logs for the foundation 
of a cabin. 

As she was strikingly beautiful, young and 
unmarried, both white and Indian braves 
thought it would be a fine thing to win her hand, 
and intimations of this fact were not wanting. 
The young Indians brought long poles with them 
and leaned them up against the cabin at Alki, 
the significance of which was not at first under- 
stood, but it was afterward learned that they 
were courtship poles, according to their custom. 

The white competitors found themselves 
distanced by the younger Denny, who was the 
first of the name to set foot on Puget Sound. 

On January 23rd, 1853, in the cabin of A. A. 
Denny, on the east side of Elliott Bay, Louisa 
Boren was married to David T. Denny. 

In order to fulfil law and custom, David 
had made a trip to Olympia and back in a canoe 
to obtain a marriage license, but was told that 
no one there had authority to issue one, so he 
returned undaunted to proceed without it; 
neither was there a minister to perform the cere- 
mony, but Dr. Maynard, who was a Justice of 
the Peace, successfully tied the knot. 

Among the few articles of wearing apparel 
it was possible to transport to these far-off 
shores in a time of slow and difficult travel, was 
a white lawn dress, which did duty as a wedding 
gown. 

The young couple moved their worldly pos- 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

sessions in an Indian canoe to their own cabin 
on the bay, about a mile and a half away, in a 
little clearing at the edge of the vast forest. 

Here began the life of toil and struggle 
which characterized the early days. 

Then came the Indian war. A shore time 
before the outbreak, while they were absent at 
the settlement, some Indians robbed the cabin; 
as they returned they met the culprits. Mrs. 
Denny noticed that one of them had adorned 
his cap with a white embroidered collar and a 
gray ribbon belonging to her. The young rascal 
when questioned said that the other one had 
given them to him. Possibly it was true ; at any 
rate when George Seattle heard of it he gave the 
accused a whipping. 

The warnings given by their Indian friends 
were heeded and they retired to the settlement, 
to a little frame house not far from Fort De- 
catur. 

On the morning of the battle, January 26th, 
Louisa Boren Denny was occupied with the nec- 
essary preparation of food for her family. She 
heard shots and saw from her window the 
marines swarming up from their boats onto Yes- 
ler's wharf, and rightly judging that the attack 
had begun she snatched the biscuits from the 
oven, turned them into her apron, gathered up 
her child, two years old, and ran toward the fort. 
Her husband, who was standing guard, met her 
and assisted them into the fort. 

[276] 



LOUISA B. DENNY. 

A little incident occurred in the fort which 
showed her strong temperance principles. One 
of the officers, perhaps feeling the need of some- 
thing to strengthen his courage, requested her 
to pour out some whiskey for him, producing a 
bottle and glass ; whether or no his hand was al- 
ready unsteady from fear or former libations, 
she very properly refused and has, throughout 
her whole life, discouraged the use of intoxi- 
cants. 

A number of the settlers remained in the 
fort for some time, as it was unsafe for them 
to return to their claims. 

On the 16th of March, 1856, her second child 
was born in Port Decatur. 

With this infant and the elder of two years 
and three months, they journeyed back again 
into the wilderness, where she took up the toil- 
some and uncertain life of the frontier. " There 
was nothing," she has said, "that was too hard 
or disagreeable for me to undertake." 

All the work of the house and even lending 
a hand at digging and delving, piling and burn- 
ing brush outside, and the work was done with- 
out questioning the limits of her "spere." 

They removed again to the edge of the settle- 
ment and lived for a number of years in a rose- 
embowered cottage on Seneca Street. 

Accumulating cares filled the years, but she 
met them with the same high courage through- 
out. Her sons and daughters were carefully 

[277] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

brought up and given every available advantage 
even though it cost her additional sacrifice. 

Her half of the old donation claim became 
very valuable in time as city property, but the 
enormous taxation robbed her to a considerable 
extent of its benefits. 

The manner of life of this heroic mother, 
type of her race, was such as to develop the 
noblest traits of character. The patience, stead- 
fastness, courage, hopefulness and the considera- 
tion for the needs and trials of others, wrought 
out in her and others like her, during the pioneer 
days, challenge the admiration of the world. 

I have seen the busy toil, the anxious brow, 
the falling tears of the pioneer woman as she 
tended her sick or fretful child, hurried the din- 
ner for the growing family and the hired In- 
dians who were clearing, grubbing or ditching, 
bent over the washtub to cleanse the garments 
of the household, or up at a late hour to mend 
little stockings for restless feet, meanwhile help- 
ing the young students of the family to conquer 
the difficulties that lay before them. 

The separation from dearly loved friends, 
left far behind, wrought upon the mind of the 
pioneer woman to make her sad to melancholy, 
but after a few years new ties were formed and 
new interests grasped to partially wear this 
away, but never entirely, it is my opinion. 

She traveled on foot many a weary mile or 
rode over the roughest roads in a jolting, spring- 

[278] 



LOUISA B. DENNY. 

less wagon; in calm or stormy weather in the 
tip-tilting Indian canoes, or on the back of the 
treacherous cayuse, carrying her babes with her 
through dangerous places, where to care for 
one's self would seem too great a burden to most 
people, patient, calm, uncomplaining. 

The little brown hands were busy from 
morning to night in and about the cabin or cot- 
tage; seldom could a disagreeable task be dele- 
gated to another; to dress the fish and clams, 
dig the potatoes in summer as needed for the 
table, pluck the ducks and grouse, cook and serve 
the same, fell to her lot before the children were 
large enough to assist. Moreover, to milk the 
cows, feed the horses, chop wood occasionally, 
shoot at predatory birds and animals, burn brush 
piles and plant a garden and tactfully trade with 
the Indians were a few of the accomplishments 
she mastered and practiced with skill and suc- 
cess. 

In the summer time this mother took the 
children out into the great evergreen forest to 
gather wild berries for present and future use. 
While the youngest slept under giant ferns or 
drooping cedar, she filled brimming pails with 
the luscious fruit, salmonberry, dewberry or 
huckleberry in their seasons. Here, too, the 
older children could help, and there was an ad- 
mixture of pleasure in stopping to gather the 
wild scarlet honeysuckle, orange lilies, snowy 
Philadelphus, cones, mosses and lichens and 

[279] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

listening to the " blackberry bird," as we called 
the olive-backed thrush, or the sigh of the boughs 
overhead. 

The family dog went along, barking cheer- 
fully at every living thing, chasing rabbits, dig- 
ing out "suwellas" or scaring up pheasants and 
grouse which the eldest boy would shoot. It was 
a great treat to the children, but when all re- 
turned home, tired after the day's adventure, it 
was mother's hands prepared the evening meal 
and put the sleepy children to bed. 

Everywhere that she has made her home, 
even for a few years, she has cultivated a garden 
of fragrant and lovely flowers, a source of much 
pleasure to her family and friends. The old- 
fashioned roses and hollyhocks, honeysuckles 
and sweet Williams grew and flourished, with 
hosts of annuals around the cottage on Seneca 
Street in the '60 's, and at the old homestead on 
Lake Union the old and new garden favorites 
ran riot ; so luxuriant were the Japan and Ascen- 
sion lilies, the velvety pansies, tea, climbing, 
moss and monthly roses, fancy tulips, English 
violets, etc., etc., as to call forth exclamations 
from passersby. Some were overheard in en- 
thusiastic praise saying, "Talk about Florida! 
just look at these flowers!" 

The great forest, with its wealth of beauti- 
ful flowers and fruitful things, gave her much 
delight; the wild flowers, ferns, vines, mosses, 
lichens and evergreens, to which she often called 

T280] 



LOUISA B. DENNY. 

our attention when we all went blackberrying 
or picnicing in the old, old time. 

The grand scenery of the Northwest ac- 
cords with her thought-life. She always keenly 
enjoys the oft-recurring displays of wonderful 
color in the western sky, the shimmering waves 
under moon or sun, the majestic mountains and 
dark fir forests that line the shores of the Inland 
Sea. 

In early days she was of necessity every- 
thing in turn to her family ; when neither physi- 
cian nor nurse was readily obtainable, her treat- 
ment of their ailments commanded admiration, 
as she promptly administered and applied with 
excellent judgment the remedies at her com- 
mand with such success that professional service 
was not needed for thirty years except in case 
of accident of unusual kind. 

She looked carefully to the food, fresh air, 
exercise and bathing of her little flock with the 
most satisfying results. She believes in the 
house for the people, not the people for the 
house, and has invariably put the health and 
comfort of her household before her care for 
things. 

Her mind is one to originate and further 
ideas of reform and eagerly appropriate the best 
of others conclusions. 

Ever the sympathetic counsellor and friend 
of her children in work and study, she shared 
their pastimes frequently as well. She remem- 

ioa- [2811 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

bers going through the heavy forest which once 
surrounded Lake Union with her boys trout- 
fishing in the outlet of the lake ; while she poked 
the fish with a pole from their hiding places un- 
der the bank the boys would gig them, having 
good success and much lively sport. 

On one trip they had the excitement of a 
cougar hunt; that is, the cougar seemed to be 
hunting them, but they "made tracks" and ac- 
complished their escape; the cougar was after- 
ward killed. 

Several other of her adventures are re- 
counted elsewhere. It would require hundreds 
of pages to set forth a moving picture of the stir- 
ring frontier life in which she participated. 

Louisa Boren Denny is a pioneer woman of 
the best type. 

Her charities have been many ; kind and en- 
couraging words, sympathy and gifts to the 
needy and suffering ; her nature is generous and 
unselfish, and, though working quietly, her in- 
fluence is and has ever been none the less potent 
for good. 

"Peace hath her victories no less renowned 
than war." 

Of the victories over environment and cir- 
cumstances much might be written. The lack 
of comforts and conveniences compelled arduous 
manual toil and the busy "brown hands" found 
many homely duties to engage their activities. 
In and out of the cabins the high-browed pio- 

[282] 



LOUISA B. DENNY. 

neer mothers wrought, where now the delicate 
dames, perhaps, indolently occupy luxuriant 
homes. 

It is impossible for these latter to realize 
the loneliness, wildness and rudeness of the sur- 
roundings of the pioneer women. Instead of 
standing awed before the dauntless souls that 
preceded them, with a toss of the head they say, 
" You might endure such things but we couldn't, 
we are so much finer clay." 

The friends they left behind were sorely 
regretted ; one pioneer woman said the most cruel 
deprivation was the rarity of letters from home 
friends, the anxious waiting month after month 
for some word that might tell of their well-being. 
Neither telegraph nor fleet mail service had then 
been established. 

The pioneer woman learned to face every 
sort of danger from riding rough water in an 
Indian canoe to hunting blackberries where 
bears, panthers and Indians roamed the deep 
forest. One said that she would not go through 
it again for the whole State of Washington. 

Each was obliged to depend almost wholly 
on herself and was compelled to invent and ap- 
ply many expedients to feed and clothe herself 
and little ones. There was no piano playing 
or fancy work for her, but she made, mended 
and re-made, cooked, washed and swept, helped 
put in the garden or clear the land, all the time 
instructing her children as best she could, and 

[283] 



BLAZING THE WAY, 

by both precept and example, inculcating those 
high principles that mark true manhood and 
womanhood. 

The typical band of pioneer women who 
landed on Alki Point, all but one of whom sat 
down to weep, have lived to see a great city built, 
in less than a half century, the home of thou- 
sands who reap the fruits of their struggles in 
the wilderness. 

The heroic endurance with which they toiled 
and waited, many years, the tide in their affairs, 
whereby they attained a moderate degree of ease, 
comfort and freedom from anxiety, all so hardily 
won, is beyond words of admiration. 

The well-appointed kitchen of today, with 
hot and cold water on tap, fine steel range, cup- 
boards and closets crowded with every sort of 
cunning invention in the shape of utensils for 
cooking, is a luxurious contrast to the meager 
outfit of the pioneer housewife. As an example 
of the inconvenience and privations of the early 
'50s, I give the following from the lips of one 
of the pioneer daughters, Sarah (Bonney) 
Kellogg : 

"When we came to Steilacoom in 1853, we 
lived overhead in a rough lumber store build- 
ing, and my mother had to go up and down stairs 
and out into the middle of the street or roadway 
and cook for a numerous family by a stump fire. 
She owned the only sieve in the settlement, a 
large round one ; flour was $25.00 a barrel and 

I284" 1 



LOUISA B. DENNY. 

had weevils in it at that, so every time bread 
was made the flour had to be sifted to get them 
out. The sieve was very much in demand and 
frequently the children were sent here or there 
among the neighbors to bring it home. 

"We had sent to Olympia for a stove, but 
it was six weeks before it reached its destina- 
tion." 

Think of cooking outdoors for six weeks 
for a family of growing children, with only the 
fewest possible dishes and utensils, too ! 

Any woman of the present time may imag- 
ine, if she will, what it would be to have every 
picture, or other ornament, every article of fur- 
niture, except the barest necessities for exist- 
ence, the fewest possible in number, every fash- 
ionable garment, her house itself with its vines 
and shrubbery suddenly vanish and raise her 
eyes to see without the somber forest standing 
close around; within, the newspapered or bare 
walls of a log cabin, a tiny window admitting 
little light, a half-open door, but darkened fre- 
quently by savage faces; or to strain her ears 
to catch the song, whistle or step of her husband 
returning through the dark forest, fearing but 
hoping and praying that he may not have fallen 
on the way by the hand of a foe. She might look 
down to see her form clad in homely garments 
of cotton print, moccasins on her feet, and her 
wandering glance touch her sunbonnet hanging 
on a peg driven between the logs. 

[285] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

Now and then a wild cry sounds faintly or 
fully over the water or from the sighing depths 
of the vast wilderness. 

An unusual challenge by ringing stentorian 
voices may call her to the door to scan the face 
of the waters and see great canoes loaded with 
brawny savages, whose intentions are uncertain, 
paddled swiftly up the bay, instead of the fa- 
miliar sound of steam whistles and gliding in of 
steamships to a welcome port. 

Should it be a winter evening and her com- 
panion late, they seat themselves at a rude table 
and partake of the simplest food from the barely 
sufficient dishes, meanwhile striving to reassure 
each other ere retiring for the night. 

So day after day passed away and many 
years of them, the conditions gradually modified 
by advancing civilization, yet rendered even 
more arduous by increasing cares and toils inci- 
dent upon the rearing and educating of a family 
with very little, if any, assistance from such 
sources as the modern mother has at her com- 
mand. Physicians and nurses, cooks and house- 
maids were almost entirely lacking, and the 
mother, with what the father could help her, 
had to be all these in turn. 

In all ordinary, incipient or trifling ailments 
they necessarily became skillful, and for many 
years kept their families in health with active 
and vigorous bodies, clear brains and goodly 
countenances. 

(.286] 



LOUISA B. DENNY. 

The pioneer women are of sterling worth 
and character. The patience, courage, purity 
and steadfastness which were developed in them 
presents a moral resemblance to the holy women 
of old. 

Pioneer men are generally liberal in their 
views, as was witnessed when the suffrage was 
bestowed upon the women of Washington Terri- 
tory several years ago. 



[287] 



CHAPTER Va. 

A NATIVE DAUGHTER, BORN IN FORT DECATUR. 

Madge Decatur Denny was born in Fort 
Decatur, in the year of the Indian war, on March 
16th, 1856; to those sheltering walls had the 
gentle mother, Louisa Boren Denny, fled on the 
day of battle. Ushered into the world of danger 
and rude alarms, her nature proved, in its devel- 
opment, one well suited to the circumstances and 
conditions; courage, steadfastness and intrepid- 
ity were marked traits in her character. Par 
from being outwardly indicated, they were 
rather contrasted by her delicate and refined ap- 
pearance; one said of her, " Madge is such a 
dainty thing." 

Madge was a beautiful child, and woman, 
too, with great sparkling eyes, abundant golden- 
brown curls and rosy cheeks. What a picture 
lingers in my memory! — of this child with her 
arms entwined about the slender neck of a pet 
fawn, her eyes shining with love and laughter, 
her burnished hair shimmering like a halo in the 
sunlight as she pattered here and there with her 
graceful playfellow. 

The Indians admired her exceedingly, and 
both they and the white people of the little settle- 
ment often remarked upon her beauty. 

In early youth she showed a keen intellectu- 
[288] 



MADGE DECATUR DENNY. 

ality, reading with avidity at ten years such 
books as Irving 's "Life of Washington," "His- 
tory of France," "Pilgrim's Progress," Sir 
Walter Scott's "Lay of the Last Minstrel" and 
"Lady of the Lake." From that time on she 
read every book or printed page that fell in her 
way; a very rapid reader, one who seemed to 
take in a page at a few glances, she ranged hap- 
pily over the fields of literature like a bright- 
winged bird. Poetry, fiction, history, bards, 
wits, essayists, all gave of their riches to her 
fresh, inquiring young mind. 

The surpassing loveliness and grandeur of 
the "world in the open air" appealed to her pure 
nature even in extreme youth ; her friends recall 
with wonder that when only two and a half years 
of age she marked the enchantment of a scene 
in Oregon, of flowery mead, dark forest and deep 
canyon, under a bright June sky, by plucking at 
her mother's gown and lisping, "Look! mother, 
look ! so pitty ! ' ' (pretty) . 

And such a lover of flowers! From this 
same season when she gathered armf uls of great, 
golden buttercups, blue violets, scarlet colum- 
bines, "flags" and lilies from the sunny slopes 
of the Waldo Hills, through her youth, on the 
evergreen banks of Puget Sound where she 
climbed fearlessly about to pluck the purple 
lupine, orange honeysuckle, Oregon grape and 
sweet wild roses, was her love of them exempli- 
fied. Very often she walked or rode on horse- 

[289] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

back some distance to procure the lovely lady's 
slipper (Calypso borealis), the favorite flower 
of the pioneer children. 

A charming letter writer, she often added 
the adornment of a tiny group of wild flowers 
in the corner, a few yellow violets, fairylike twin- 
flowers or lady's slippers. 

At one time she had a large correspondence 
with curious young Eastern people who wished 
to know something of the far Northwest ; to these 
she sent accurate and graphic descriptions of 
tall trees, great mountains, waterfalls, lakes and 
seas, beasts, birds and fishes. She possessed no 
mean literary talent; without her knowledge 
some of her letters strayed into print. A very 
witty one was published in a newspaper, cut out 
and pasted in the scrapbook of an elocutionist, 
and to her astonishment produced as a " funny 
piece" before an audience among whom she sat, 
the speaker evidently not knowing its author. 
A parody on "Poe's Raven" made another audi- 
ence weep real tears in anguished mirth. 

Every felicitous phrase or quaint conceit 
she met was treasured up, and to these were 
added not a few of her own invention, and woe 
betide the wight who accompanied her to opera, 
concert or lecture, for her sotto voce comments, 
murmured with a grave countenance, were dis- 
astrous to their composure and " company man-« 



ners." 



It must be recorded of her that she gave up 
[290] 



MADGE DECATUB DENNY. 

selfish pleasures to be her mother's helper, whose 
chief stay she was through many years. In her 
last illness she said, with much tenderness, 
" Mother, who will help you now?" 

Madge was a true lady or loaf -giver. Every 
creature, within or without the domicile, partook 
of her generous care, from the pet canary to the 
housedog, all the human inhabitants and the 
stranger within the gates. 

Moreover, she was genuine, nothing she 
undertook was slighted or done in a slipshod 
manner. 

Her taste and judgment were accurate and 
sound in literature and art; her love of art led 
her to exclaim regretfully, "When we are dead 
and gone, the landscape will bristle with easels." 

A scant population and the exigencies of the 
conditions placed art expression in the far fu- 
ture, yet she saw the vast possibilities before 
those who should be so fortunate as to dwell in 
the midst of such native grandeur, beauty and 
richness of color. 

Like many other children, we had numerous 
pets, wild things from the forest or the, to us, 
charming juvenile members of the barnyard 
flocks. When any of these succumbed to the in- 
evitable, a funeral of more or less pomp was in 
order, and many a hapless victim of untoward 
fate was thus tearfully consigned to the bosom 
of Mother Earth. On one occasion, at the 
obsequies of a beloved bird or kitten, I forget 

[291] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

which, Madge, then perhaps six years of age, 
insisted upon arranging a litter, draped with 
white muslin and decorated with flowers, and 
followed it, as it was borne by two other chil- 
dren, singing with serious though tearless eyes, 

"We're traveling to the grave 

To lay this body down, 

And the last word that I heard him speak 

"Was about Jerusalem, " etc. 
She was so thoroughly in earnest that the 
older children refrained from laughing at what 
some might have thought unnecessary solemnity. 
Madge had her share of adventures, too; 
one dark night she came near drowning in Lake 
Washington. Having visited the Newcastle coal 
mines with a small party of friends and returned 
to the lake shore, they were on the wharf ready 
to go on board the steamer. In some manner, 
perhaps from inadequate lighting, she stepped 
backward and fell into the water some distance 
below. The water was perhaps forty feet deep, 
the mud unknown. Several men called for "A 
rope! A rope!" but not a rope could they lay 
their hands on. After what seemed an age to 
her, a lantern flashed into the darkness and a 
long pole held by seven men was held down to 
her ; she grasped it firmly and, as she afterward 
said, felt as if she could climb to the moon with 
its assistance — and was safely drawn up, taken 
to a miner's cottage, where a kind-hearted 
woman dressed her in dry clothing. She reached 
home none the worse for her narrow escape. 

[292] 



MADGE DECATUR DENNY. 

Her nerves were nerves of steel ; she seldom 
exhibited a shadow of fear and seemed of a 
spirit to undertake any daring feat. To dare the 
darkness, climb declivities, explore recesses, 
seemed pleasures to her courageous nature. At 
Snoqualmie Falls, in the Archipelago de Haro, 
in the Jupiter Hills of the Olympic Range, she 
climbed up and down the steep gorges with the 
agility of the chamois or our own mountain goat. 
The forest, the mountain, the seashore yielded 
their charm to her, each gave their messages. 
In a collection which she culled from many 
sources, ranging from sparkling gayety to pro- 
found seriousness, occur these words: 

"I saw the long line of the vacant shore 
The sea-weed and the shells upon the sand 
And the brown rocks left bare on every hand 
As if the ebbing tide would now no more. 
Then heard I more distinctly than before, 
The ocean breathe and its great breast expand, 
And hurrying came on the defenseless land, 
The insurgent waters with tumultuous roar ; 
All thought and feeling and desire, I said 
Love, laughter, and the exultant joy of song 
Have ebbed from me forever ! Suddenly o 'er me 
They swept again from their deep ocean bed, 
And in a tumult of delight and strong 
As youth, and beautiful as youth, upbore me. ' ' 

It must have been that "Bird and bee and 
blossom taught her Love's spell to know," and 
then she went away to the "land where Love it- 
self had birth." 

E293J 



CHAPTER Vb. 

LIKE A FOEEST FLOWEE. 
ANNA LOUISA DENNY. 

Anna was the fourth daughter of D. T. and 
Louisa Boren Denny. In infancy she showed 
a marked talent for music, signifying by her 
eyes, head and hands her approval of certain 
tunes, preferring them to all others. Before she 
was able to frame words she could sing tunes. 
When a young girl her memory for musical tones 
was marvelous, enabling her to reproduce diffi- 
cult strains while yet unable to read the notes. 
Possessed of a pure, high, flexible soprano voice, 
her singing was a delight to her friends. Upon 
hearing famous singers render favorite airs, her 
pleasure shone from every feature, although her 
comments were few. On the long summer camp- 
ing expeditions of the family, the music books 
went along with her brothers' cornets, possibly 
her own flute, and many a happy hour was spent 
as we drove leisurely along past the tall, dark 
evergreens, or floated on the silvery waters of 
the Sound, with perhaps a book of duets open 
before us, singing sweet songs of bird, blossom 
and pine tree. 

"While the other daughters were small and 
delicately formed, Anna grew up to be a tall, 

[294] 



ANNA LOUISA DENNY. 

statuesque woman of a truly noble appearance, 
with a fair face, a high white forehead crowned 
by masses of brown hair, and a countenance 
mirthful, sunny, serious, but seldom stern. 

A certain draped marble statue in the 
Metropolitan Museum in New York bears a 
striking resemblance to Anna, but is not of so 
noble a type. 

Childhood in the wild Northwest braved 
many dangers both seen and unseen. 

While returning late one summer night 
through the deep forest to our home after having 
attended a concert in which the children had 
taken part, Anna, then a little girl of perhaps 
seven or eight years, had a narrow escape from 
some wild beast, either a cougar or wildcat. Her 
mother, who was leading her a little behind the 
others, said that something grabbed at her and 
disappeared instantly in the thick undergrowth ; 
grasping her hand more firmly she started to 
run and the little party, thoroughly frightened, 
fairly flew along the road toward home. 

In this north country it is never really dark 
on a cloudless summer night, but the heavy for- 
ests enshroud the roads and trails in a deep twi- 
light. 

Anna, like her sister Madge, was a daring 
rider and they often went together on long trips 
through the forest. At one time each was 
mounted on a lively Indian pony, both of which 
doubtless had seen strange things and enjoyed 

[295] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

many exciting experiences, but were supposed 
to be quite lamblike and docile. Some reminis- 
cence must have crossed their equine minds, and 
they apparently challenged each other to a race, 
so race they must and race they did at a lightning 
speed on the home run. 

They came flying up the lane to the house 
(the homestead on Lake Union) in a succession 
of leaps that would have made Pegasus envious 
had he been "thar or tharabouts." Their riders 
stuck on like cockleburrs until they reached the 
gate, when a sudden stop threw Anna to the 
ground, but she escaped injury, the only damage 
being a wrecked riding habit. 

Anna made no pretension to great learning, 
yet possessed a well-balanced and cultivated 
mind. With no ado of great effort she stood 
first in her class. 

At a notable celebration of Decoration Day 
in Seattle, she was chosen to walk beside the 
teacher at the head of the school procession ; both 
were tall, handsome young women, carrying the 
school banner bearing the motto, " Eight, then 
Onward." 

It was to this school, which bore his own 
name, that her father presented a beautiful piano 
as a memorial of her; it bears the words, from 
her own lips, "I believe in Jesus," in gold letters 
across the front. 

In 1888 she accompanied her family across 
the continent to the eastern coast, where she ex- 

[296] 



ANNA LOUISA DENNY. 

pected to be reunited with a friend, a young girl 
to whom she was much attached, but it was other- 
wise ordered; after a brief illness in New York 
City, she passed away and was brought back to 
her own loved native land, by the sun-down-seas. 
Afar in a forest nook she rests, where wildwood 
creatures pass by, the pine trees wave and the 
stars sweep over, waiting, watching for the Day 
toward which the whole creation moves. 



They wandered through the wonderful 
forest, by lake, fern-embroidered stream and peb- 
ble seashore, gazed on the glistening mountains, 
the sparkling waves, the burning sunsets, shin- 
ing with such jewel colors as to make them think 
of the land of hope, the New Jerusalem. And 
the majestic snow-dome of Mountain Rainier 
which at the first sight thereof caused a noted 
man to leap up and shout aloud the joy that filled 
his soul ; they lived in sight of it for years. 

It might be asked, "Does the environment 
affect the character and mental development, 
even the physical configuration?" We answer, 
"Yes, we believe it does." The fine physique, 
the bright intellectuality, the lovely character of 
these daughters of the West were certainly in 
part produced and developed by the wonderful 
world about them. Simple, pure, exalted na- 
tures ought to be, and we believe are, the rule 

12971 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

among the children of the pioneers of Puget 
Sound and many of their successors. 

****** 

In this time of gathering up portraits of 
fair women, I cannot help reverting to the good 
old times on Puget Sound, when among the 
daughters of the white settlers ugliness was the 
exception, the majority possessing many points 
of beauty. Bright, dark eyes, brilliant com- 
plexions, graceful forms, luxuriant hair and fine 
teeth were the rule. The pure air, mild climate, 
simple habits and rational life were amply 
proved producers of physical perfection. Old- 
timers will doubtless remember the handsome 
Bonney girls, the Misses Chambers, the Misses 
Thornton, Eva Andrews, Mary Collins, Nellie 
Burnett, Alice Mercer, the Dennys, noticeable 
for clear white skin and brilliant color, with 
abundant dark hair, Gertrude and Mary Boren 
with rosy cheeks and blue eyes; Blanche Hinds, 
very fair, with large, gray eyes, and others I 
cannot now name, as well as a number of beauti- 
ful matrons. Every settlement had its favored 
fair. 

Perhaps because women were so scarce, they 

were petted and indulged and came up with the 

idea that they were very fine porcelain indeed; 

they were all given the opportunities in the reach 

of their parents and were quite fastidious in 

their dress and belongings. 

****** 

[298] 



ANNA LOUISA DENNY. 

Of the other children of D. T. and Louisa 
Boren Denny, John B. is a well educated and 
accomplished man of versatility, a lawyer, mu- 
sician, and practical miner. 

D. Thomas is an electrician; was a pre- 
cocious young business man who superintended 
the building of an electric street railway when 
under twenty-five years of age. 

Victor W. S., a practical miner, assay er and 
mining expert, who has been engaged in develop- 
ing gold and silver mines. Abbie D., an artist 
and writer, who has published numerous articles, 
a fine shot with the rifle and an accomplished 
housewife; and E. I. Denny, the author of this 
work, who is not now engaged in writing an auto- 
biography. 

All, including the last mentioned, are fond 
of wild life, hunting, camping and mountain 
climbing, in which they have had much experi- 
ence and yearly seek for more. 



[299] 



CHAPTER Vc. 

ONE OF THE COURAGEOUS YOUTHS. 

William Richard Boren was one of the boy 
pioneers. He was born in Seattle on the 4th of 
October, 1854. 

The children necessarily shared with their 
parents and guardians the hardships, dangers, 
adventures and pleasures of the wild life of the 
early days. 

When his father, Carson D. Boren, went to 
the gold diggings, William came to the D. T. 
Denny cottage and remained there for some 
time. As there was then no boy in the family 
(there were three little girls) he stepped into 
usefulness almost immediately. To bring home 
the cows, weed in the garden, carry flowers and 
vegetables to market, cut and carry wood, the 
" chores" of a pioneer home he helped to do will- 
ingly and cheerfully. 

Every pair of hands must help, and the chil- 
dren learned while very young that they were 
to be industrious and useful. 

It required real fortitude to go on lonely 
trails or roads through the dark, thick forest in 
the deepening twilight that was impenetrable 
blackness in the wall of sombre evergreens on 
either hand. 

Some children seem to have little fear of 

[300] 



WILLIAM RICHARD BOREN. 

anything, but it was different with William ; he 
was afraid; as he graphically described it, he 
"felt as if something would catch him in the 
back," But he steadfastly traveled the dark 
trails, showing a remarkable quality of courage. 

His sensations cannot be attributed to con- 
stitutional timidity altogether, as there were real 
dangers from wild beasts and savage men in 
those days. 

He would often go long distances from the 
settlement through the great forest as the shad- 
ows were darkening into night, listening breath- 
lessly for the welcome jingle of the bells of the 
herd, or anxiously to snapping twigs and creak- 
ing of lodged trees or voices of night-birds. But 
when the cattle were gathered up and he could 
hear the steady tinkle of the leader's bell, al- 
though to the eye she was lost in the dusk in the 
trail ahead, he felt safe. 

He calmly faced dangers, both seen and un- 
seen, in after years. 

By the time he was twelve or fourteen he 
had learned to shoot very well with the shotgun 
and could bring home a fine bunch of blue grouse 
or " pheasants" (ruffed grouse). 

Late one May evening he came into the old 
kitchen, laden with charming spoils from the 
forest, a large handful of the sweet favorite of 
the pioneer children, the lady's slipper or 
Calypso Borealis, and a bag of fat "hooters" 

L3011 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

for the stew or pie so much relished by the 
settlers. 

The majority of the pioneer boys were not 
expected to be particular as to whether they did 
men's work or women's work, and William was 
a notable example of versatility, lending a hand 
with helpless babies, cooking or washing, the 
most patient and faithful of nurses, lifting many 
a burden from the tired house-mother. 

He was a total abstainer from intoxicants 
and tobacco, and to the amusement of his friends 
said he " could not see any sense in jumping 
around the room," as he described the social 
dance. It surprised no one, therefore, that he 
should grow up straight and vigorous, able to 
endure many hardships. 

William was a very Nimrod by the time he 
reached his majority, a fine shot with the rifle 
and successful in killing large game. As he 
came in sight one day on the trail to our camp in 
the deep forest, he appeared carrying the black- 
est and glossiest of bear cubs slung over one 
shoulder. I called to him, "Halt, if you please, 
and let me sketch you right there. ' ' He obliging- 
ly consented and in a few moments bear, gun 
and hunter were transferred to paper. And a 
good theme it was; with a background of dark 
firs and cedars, in a mass of brightest green 
ferns, stood the stalwart figure, clad in vivid 
scarlet and black, gun on one shoulder and bear 
cub on the other. 

[302] 



WILLIAM RICHARD BOREN. 

William Boren was an active and useful 
member of the M. E. or " White Church" in 
Seattle many years ago. This was the first 
church established in Seattle. 

He removed from the settlement and lived 
on a ranch for a number of years. 

For a time in youth he was in the mining 
district; while there he imposed upon himself 
heavy burdens, packing as much as two hun- 
dred pounds over the trail. 

This was probably overexertion; also in 
later years, heavy lifting in a logging camp may 
have helped break his naturally strong constitu- 
tion. 

Many muscular and vigorous persons do not 
realize the necessity for caution in exertion. I 
have seen strong young men balancing their 
weight against the "hold" of huge stumps, by 
hanging across a large pole in mid-air. 

During his ranch life he was waylaid, basely 
and cruelly attacked and beaten into insensibility 
by two ruffians. Most likely this caused the fatal 
brain trouble from which he died in January, 
1899, at the home of his sister, Gertrude Boren, 
who through a long illness cared for him with 
affectionate solicitude. 

"0 bearded, stalwart, westmost men, 

A kingdom won without the guilt 

Of studied battle; that hath been 

Your blood's inheritance. 

• * * * • 

[303] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

Yea, Time, the grand old harvester, 
Has gathered you from wood and plain. 
We call to you again, again; 
The rush and rumble of the car 
Comes back in answer. Deep and wide 
The wheels of progress have passed on ; 
The silent pioneer is gone." 



[3041 



CHAPTER VI. 

ARTHUR A. DENNY. 

(Born June 20th, 1822, Died January 9th, 1889.) 

A ponderous volume of biography could 
scarcely set forth the journeyings, experiences, 
efforts, achievements and character of this well- 
known pioneer of the Northwest Coast. He was 
one of the foremost of the steadfast leaders of 
the pioneers. A long, useful and worthy life he 
spent among men, the far-reaching influence of 
which cannot be estimated. When he passed 
away both private citizens and public officials 
honored him ; those who had known him far back 
in his youth and through the intervening years 
said of the eulogies pronounced upon his life, 
"Well, it is all true, and much more might be 
said." 

A. A. Denny was a son of John Denny and 
brother of David Thomas Denny; each of them 
exerted a great influence on the life and institu- 
tions of the Northwest. 

Prom sketches published in the local papers 
I have made these selections : 

"The Dennys are a very ancient family of 
England, Ireland and Scotland. The present 
branch traces its ancestry from Ireland to 
America through great-grandparents, David 

ii- [305] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

and Margaret Denny, who settled in Berks 
County, Pennsylvania, previous to the revolu- 
tionary war. There Robert Denny, the grand- 
father of A. A. Denny was born in 1753. In 
early life he removed to Frederick County, Vir- 
ginia, where in 1778 he married Rachel Thomas ; 
and about 1790 removed to and settled in Mercer 
County, Kentucky. 

" There John Denny, father of the deceased, 
was born May 4, 1793, and was married August 
25, 1814, to Sarah Wilson, daughter of Bassel 
and Ann (Scott) Wilson, who was born in the 
old town of Bladensburg, near Washington City, 
February 3, 1797. Her parents came to America 
in an early day. 

" Their paternal and maternal grandparents 
served in the revolutionary war. The former 
belonged to Washington's command at the time 
of Braddock's defeat. 

"John Denny was a soldier in the war of 
1812, being in Col. Richard M. Johnson's regi- 
ment of Kentucky volunteers. He was also an 
ensign in Capt. McFee 's company, and was with 
Gen. Harrison at the battle of the Thames, when 
Proctor was defeated and the noted Tecumseh 
killed. He was a member of the Illinois legis- 
lature in 1840 and 1841, with Lincoln, Yates, 
Bates and others, who afterwards became re- 
nowned in national affairs. In politics he was 
first a Whig and afterward a Republican. For 
many years he was a Justice of the Peace. He 

[306] 



AKTHUR A. DENNY. 

died July 28th, 1875, when 83 years of age. His 
first wife died March 21st, 1841, when 44 years 
of age. 

" About 1816 John Denny and his family 
removed to Washington County, Indiana, and 
settled near Salem, where Arthur A. Denny was 
born June 20th, 1822. One year later they re- 
moved to Putnam County, six miles east from 
Greencastle, where they remained twelve years, 
and from there went to Knox County, Illinois. 
Mr. A. A. Denny has said of his boyhood : 

" 'My early education began in the log 
schoolhouse so familiar to the early settler in 
the West. The teachers were paid by subscrip- 
tion, so much per pupil, and the schools rarely 
lasted more than half the year, and often but 
three months. Among the earliest of my recol- 
lections is of my father hewing out a farm in the 
beech woods of Indiana, and I well remember 
that the first school that I attended was two and 
a half miles from my home. When I became 
older it was often necessary for me to attend to 
home duties half of the day before going to 
school a mile distant. By close application I 
was able to keep up with my class. 

" 'My opportunities to some extent im- 
proved as time advanced. I spent my vacations 
with an older brother at carpenter and joiner 
work to obtain the means to pay my expenses 
during term time.' " 

A. A. Denny was married November 23, 

[-307] 



1 BLAZING THE WAY. 

1843, to Mary Ann Boren, to whom he has paid 
a graceful and well-deserved tribute in these 
words : 

"She has been kind and indulgent to all my 
faults, and in cases of doubt and difficulty in the 
long voyage we have made together she has al- 
ways been, without the least disposition to dic- 
tate, a safe and prudent adviser." 

He held many public offices, each and all 
of which he filled with scrupulous care, from 
county supervisor in Illinois in 1843 to first post- 
master of Seattle in 1853. He was elected to the 
legislature of Washington Territory, serving 
for nine consecutive sessions, being the speaker 
of the third; was registrar of the U. S. Land 
Office at Olympia from 1861 to 1865. He was a 
member of the Thirty-ninth Congress, being a 
delegate from Washington Territory. Even in 
his age he was given the unanimous vote of the 
Republicans for U. S. Senator from the State of 
Washington. 

His business enterprises date from the 
founding of the City of Seattle and are inter- 
woven with its history. 

He was a volunteer in the war against the 
Indians and had some stirring experiences. In 
his book, "Pioneer Days on Puget Sound," he 
gives a very clear and accurate account of the 
beginning of the trouble with the Indians and 
many facts concerning the war following. 

He found, as many others did, good and true 

[308] 



AETHUE A. DENNY. 

friends, as well as enemies, among the Indians. 
On page 68 of the work mentioned may be found 
these words: "I will say further, that my ac- 
quaintance and experience with the Puget Sound 
Indians proved them to be sincere in their 
friendship, and no more unfaithful and treason- 
able than the average white man, and I am dis- 
posed to believe that the same might be truth- 
fully said of many other Indians." 

With regard to the dissatisfied tenderfoot 
he says : " All old settlers know that it is a com- 
mon occurrence for parties who have reached 
here by the easy method of steamer or railway 
in a palace car to be most blindly unreasonable 
in their fault-finding, and they are often not 
content with abusing the country and climate, 
but they heap curses and abuse on those who 
came before them by the good old method of 
ninety or a hundred days crossing the plains, 
just as though we had sent for them and thus 
given them an undoubted right to abuse us for 
their lack of good strong sense. Then we all 
know, too, that it has been a common occurrence 
for those same fault-finders to leave, declaring 
that the country was not fit for civilized people 
to live in ; and not by any means unusual for the 
same parties to return after a short time ready to 
settle down and commence praising the country, 
as though they wanted to make amends for their 
unreasonable behavior in the first instance." 

There are a good many other pithy remarks 

[309] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

in this book, forcible for their truth and sim- 
plicity. 

As the stories of adventure have an im- 
perishable fascination, I give his own account of 
the discovery of Shilshole or Salmon Bay: 

"When we selected our claims we had fears 
that the range for our stock would not afford 
them sufficient feed in the winter, and it was 
not possible to provide feed for them, which 
caused us a great deal of anxiety. From state- 
ments made by the Indians, which we could then 
but imperfectly understand, we were led to be- 
lieve that there was prairie or grass lands to the 
northwest, where we might find feed in case of 
necessity, but we were too busy to explore until 
in December, 1852, when Bell, my brother, D. T. 
Denny, and myself determined to look for the 
prairie. It was slow and laborious traveling 
through the unbroken forest, and before we had 
gone far Bell gave out and returned home, leav- 
ing us to proceed alone. In the afternoon we 
unexpectedly came to a body of water, and at 
first thought we had inclined too far eastward 
and struck the lake, but on examination we found 
it to be tidewater. From our point of observa- 
tion we could not see the outlet to the Sound, 
and our anxiety to learn more about it caused us 
to spend so much time that when we turned 
homeward it soon became so dark that we were 
compelled to camp for the night without dinner, 
supper or blankets, and we came near being with- 

[3101 



ARTHUR A. DENNY. 

out fire also, as it had rained on us nearly all 
day and wet our matches so that we could only 
get fire by the flash of a rifle, which was exceed- 
ingly difficult under the circumstances." 

D. T. Denny remembers that A. A. Denny 
pulled some of the cotton wadding out of his 
coat and then dug into a dead fir tree that was 
dry inside and put it in with what other dry 
stuff they could find, which was very little, and 
D. T. Denny fired off his gun into it with the 
muzzle so close as to set fire to it. 

He also relates that he shot a pheasant and 
broiled it before the fire, dividing it in halves. 

A. A. Denny further says : 

"Our camp was about midway between the 
mouth of the bay and the cove, and in the morn- 
ing we made our way to the cove and took the 
beach for home. Of course, our failing to return 
at night caused great anxiety at home, and soon 
after we got on the beach we met Bell coming 
on hunt of us, and the thing of most interest to 
us just then was he had his pockets filled with 
hard bread. 

"This was our first knowledge of Shilshole 
Bay, which we soon after fully explored, and 
were ready to point newcomers in that direction 
for locations." 

Old Salmon Bay Curley had told them there 
was grass in that region, which was true they 
afterward learned, but not prairie grass, it was 

[311] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

salt marsh, in sufficient quantity to sustain the 
cattle. 

Speaking of the Indians, he tells how they 
settled around the cabins of the whites at AIM 
until there were perhaps a thousand, and relates 
this incident: "On one occasion during the 
winter, Nelson (Chief Pialse) came with a party 
of Green River and Muckilshoot Indians, and 
got into an altercation with John Kanem and the 
Snoqualmies. They met and the opposing 
forces, amounting to thirty or forty on a side, 
drew up directly in front of Low's house, armed 
with Hudson Bay muskets, the two parties near 
enough together to have powder-burnt each 
other, and were apparently in the act of opening 
fire, when we interposed and restored peace with- 
out bloodshed, by my taking John Kanem away 
and keeping them apart until Nelson and his 
party left." 

His daughter, Lenora Denny, related the 
same incident to me. She witnessed it as a little 
child and remembers it perfectly, together with 
her fright at the preparations for battle, and 
added that Kanem desired her father at their 
conference behind the cabin just to let him go 
around behind the enemy's line of battle and 
stab their chief ; nobody would know who did it 
and that would be sufficient in lieu of the pro- 
posed fight. Mr. Denny dissuaded him and the 
"war" terminated as above stated. 

In the fall of 1855, the Indians exhibited 

[312] 



AETHUE A. DENNY. 

more and more hostility toward the whites, and 
narrow escapes were not uncommon before the 
war fairly broke out. 

About this time as A. A. Denny was making 
a canoe voyage from Olympia down the Sound 
he met with a thrilling experience. 

When he and his two Indian canoemen were 
opposite a camp of savages on the beach, they 
were hailed by the latter with: 

"Who is it you have in the canoe and where 
are you going?" spoken in their native tongue. 
After calling back and forth for some little 
time, two of them put out hastily in. a canoe to 
overtake the travelers, keeping up an earnest 
and excited argument with one of Mr. Denny's 
Indians, both of whom he observed never ceased 
paddling. One of the strangers was dressed up 
in war-paint and had a gun across his lap; he 
kept up the angry debate with one of the trav- 
elers while the other was perfectly silent. 

Finally the pursuers were near enough so 
that one reached out to catch hold of the canoe 
when Denny's men paddled quickly out of reach 
and increased their speed to a furious rate, con- 
tinuing to paddle with all their might until a 
long distance from their threatening visitors. 
Although Mr. Denny did not understand their 
speech, their voices and gestures were not dif- 
ficult to interpret; he felt they wished to kill 
him and thought himself lost. 

He afterward learned that his canoeman, 

ha- [313] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

who had answered the attacking party, had saved 
his life by his courage and cunning. The sav- 
ages from the camp had demanded that Mr. 
Denny be given up to them that they might kill 
him in revenge for the killing of some Indians, 
saying he was a "hyas tyee" (great man) and a 
most suitable subject for their satisfaction. 

He had answered that Mr. Denny was not 
near so high up nor as great as some others and 
was always a good friend of the Indians and then 
carried him to a place of safety by fast and fur- 
ious paddling. The one who was silent during 
the colloquy declared afterward that he said 
nothing for fear they would kill him too. 

This exhibition of faithfulness on the part 
of Indian hirelings is worthy of note in the face 
of many accusations of treachery on the part 
of their race. 

It is my opinion that Arthur Armstrong 
Denny led an exemplary life and that he ever de- 
sired to do justice to others. If he failed in do- 
ing so, it was the fault of those with whom he was 
associated rather than his own. 

A leading trait in his character was integ- 
rity, another was the modesty that ever accom- 
panies true greatness, noticeable also in his well 
known younger brother, D. T. Denny ; neither has 
been boastful, arrogant or grasping for public 
honors. 

A. A. Denny fought the long battle of the 
pioneer faithfully and well and sleeps in an hon- 
ored grave. [314] 



MARY A. DENNY. 



MARY A. DENNY. 



Mary Ann Boren (Denny) was born in Ten- 
nessee, November 25th, 1822, the first child of 
Richard Boren and Sarah Latimer Boren (after- 
ward Denny) . Her grandfather Latimer, a kind 
hearted, sympathetic man, sent a bottle of cam- 
phor to revive the pale young mother. This 
camphor bottle was kept in the family, the chil- 
dren resorting to it for the palliation of cuts and 
bruises throughout their adolescence, and it is 
now preserved by her own family as a cherished 
relic, having seen eighty years and more since 
its presentation. 

After the death of her father, leaving her 
mother a young widow with three small children, 
they lived in Illinois as pioneers, where Mary 
shared the toils, dangers and vicissitudes of fron- 
tier life. Was not this the school for the greater 
pioneering of the farthest west? 

November 23rd, 1843, she married Arthur A. 
Denny, a man who both recognized and acknowl- 
edged her worth. 

When she crossed the plains in 1851 with 
the Denny company, Mrs. Denny was a young 
matron of twenty-nine years, with two little 
daughters. The journey, arduous to any, was 
peculiarly trying to her with the helpless ones to 
care for and make as comfortable as such tenting 
in the wilds might be. 

At Fort Laramie her own feet were so un- 

[315] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

comfortable in shoes that she put on a pair of 
moccasins which David T. Denny had bought of 
an Indian and worn for one day. Mrs. Denny 
wore them during the remainder of the journey 
to Portland. 

One incident among many serves to show her 
unfaltering courage ; an Indian reached into her 
wagon to take the gun hung up inside : Mrs. Mary 
A. Denny pluckily seized a hatchet and drew it 
to strike a vigorous blow when the savage sud- 
denly withdrew, doubtless with an increased re- 
spect for white squaws in general and this one in 
particular. 

The great journey ended, at Portland her 
third child, Holland H., was born. If mother- 
hood be a trial under the most favorable circum- 
stances, what must it have been on the long 
march ? 

On the stormy and dangerous trip from 
Portland on the schooner Exact, out over the 
bar and around Cape Flattery to the landing at 
Alki Point, went the little band with this brave 
mother and her babe. 

On a drizzly day in November, the 13th, 
1851, she climbed the bank at Alki Point to the 
rude cabin, bare of everything now considered 
necessary to begin housekeeping. They were im- 
perfectly protected from the elements and the 
eldest child, Catharine, or Kate as she was called, 
yet remembers how the rain dropped on her face 
the first night they slept in the unfinished cabin, 

[316] 



MARY A. DENNY. 

giving her a decided prejudice against camping 
out. 

The mother's health was poor and it became 
necessary to provide nourishment for the infant ; 
as there were no cows within reach, or tinned sub- 
stitutes, the experiment of feeding him on clam 
juice was made with good effect. 

Louisa Boren Denny, her sister, then unmar- 
ried, relates the following incident : 

"At AM Point one day, I stood just with- 
in the door of the cabin and Mary stood just in- 
side ; both of us saw an Indian bob up from be- 
hind the bank and point his gun directly at my 
sister Mary and almost immediately lower it 
without firing." 

Mary A. Denny, when asked recently what 
she thought might have been his reason for do- 
ing so replied, "Well, I don't know, unless it 
was just to show what he could do ; it was Indian 
Jim; I suppose he did it to show that he could 
shoot me if he wanted to." 

Probably he thought to frighten her at least, 
but with the customary nerve of the pioneer wom- 
an, she exhibited no sign of fear and he went his 
way. 

They afterward learned that on the same 
evening there had been some trouble with the 
Indians at the Maple Place and it was thought 
that this Indian was one of the disaffected or a 
sympathizer. 

Mrs. Mary A. Denny moved about from 

[317] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

place to place, living first in the cabin at AIM 
Point, then a cabin on Elliott Bay, on the north 
end of their claim, then another cabin near the 
great laurel tree, on the site of the Stevens Ho- 
tel, Seattle. After a time the family went to 
Olympia. Her husband was in the Land Office, 
was a member of the Territorial Legislature and 
Delegate to Congress ; all the while she toiled on 
in her home with her growing family. 

They returned to Seattle and built what was 
for those times a very good residence on the cor- 
ner of Pike Street and First Avenue, where they 
had a fine orchard, and there they lived many 
years. 

After having struggled through long years 
of poverty, not extreme, to be sure, but requir- 
ing much patient toil and endurance, their prop- 
erty became immensely valuable and they en- 
joyed well deserved affluence. 

Mrs. Mary A. Denny's family consists of 
four sons and two daughters ; Orion O., the sec- 
ond son, was the second white child born in Se- 
attle. Catherine (Denny) Frye, the elder daugh- 
ter, was happily married in her girlhood and is 
the mother of a most interesting family. Holland 
H., Orion O., A. Wilson and Charles L. Denny, 
the four sons, are prominent business men of 
Seattle. 

Mrs. Denny makes her home with Lenora, 
the younger unmarried daughter, at her palatial 

[318] 



MAEY A. DENNY. 

residence in Seattle. The last mentioned is a 
traveled, well read woman of most sympathetic 
nature, devoted to her friends, one who has shown 
kindness to many strangers in times past as they 
were guests in her parents' home. 



[319] 



CHAPTER VII. 

HENKY VAN ASSELT OF DUWAMISH. 

In the Post-Intelligencer of December 8th 
and 9th, 1902, appeared the following sketches of 
this well known pioneer: 

"At the ripe old age of 85, with the friend- 
ship and affection of every man he knew in this 
life, Henry Van Asselt, one of the founders of 
King County, and one of the four of the first 
white men to set foot on the shores of Elliott 
Bay, died yesterday morning at his home, on 
Fifteenth Avenue, of paralysis. Mr. Van Asselt, 
with Samuel and Jacob Maple and L. M. Collins, 
landed in a canoe September 14th, 1851, at the 
mouth of the Duwamish River, where it enters 
the harbor of Seattle. They had come from the 
Columbia River and were more than two months 
in advance of Arthur Denny, one of the pioneer 
builders of the city of Seattle. Van Asselt 's 
name is perpetuated through the town of Van 
Asselt, adjoining the southern limits of the city. 
He was well known all over the Puget Sound 
country, and he was the last living member of 
one of the first bands of white arrivals on the 
shores of Elliott Bay. 

"Mr. Van Asselt was a Hollander, having 
been born in Holland April 11, 1817, two years 
after the battle of Waterloo. He was in his 

[320] 



HENRY VAN ASSELT. 

early youth a soldier in the Holland army during 
its dispute with Belgium. An expert marksman 
and an indefatigable huntsman, he came to 
America in 1850, on a sailing schooner, and a 
year later was traveling the trail from the Cen- 
tral West to California. Instead of going to the 
land of gold and sunshine, Van Asselt headed 
north, reaching the Columbia River in the fall 
of 1850. A year later found him crossing the 
Columbia River, after a short sojourn in the min- 
ing camps of Northern California. With three 
companions, L. M. Collins, Jacob and Samuel 
Maple, Henry Van Asselt made the perilous jour- 
ney from the Columbia River to the Sound, 
where, near Olympia, he boarded a canoe, and 
after two days' traveling reached the mouth of 
the Duwamish River. Ascending the stream to 
the junction of the White and Black Rivers, a 
distance of only a few miles, he staked out a do- 
nation land claim of 320 acres in the heart of the 
richest section of the Duwamish valley. 

SAID VALUES INCREASED. 

"The sturdy Hollander cleared the valley 
of its primeval forest of firs, and made it truly 
blossom with farm products of every description. 
The land today (1902) is worth $1,000 an acre 
and upwards. At his death, the aged pioneer, 
the last of his generation, had in his own name 
some 100 odd acres of this land. Not many weeks 
ago he had sold twenty-four acres of the old 

[321] / 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

homestead as the site of the new rolling mill and 
foundry to be constructed by the Vulcan Iron 
Works. 

"Mr. Van Asselt was not the least interest- 
ing, by any means, of the old pioneers of King 
County. In fact, until his death he was the last 
living member of the first group of white men 
to set foot on the shores of Elliott Bay. He was 
a very devout man, and in the late years of his 
life, when he had retired from active business, 
it was his custom to spend part of every Sunday 
at the county jail, reading to the prisoners ex- 
cerpts from holy writ and giving them words of 
hopefulness and cheer. This duty was per- 
formed for many years as regularly as was his 
attendance at the Methodist Protestant church, 
in this city, of which he had been for thirty years 
a member. It is to be said of the dead pioneer 
that he was universally loved and respected, and 
it was his proudest boast that he had never made 
an enemy in his life. This was literally true. 

"Crossing the plains in 1850, young Van 
Asselt was of great assistance to his party in 
procuring game and in driving the hostile In- 
dians away, because of his superior marksman- 
ship, which he had acquired as a hunter on the 
estates of wealthy residents of his native coun- 
try. He landed at Oregon City, Ore., in Septem- 
ber, 1850, and the ensuing winter he spent in 
mining in California. He accumulated a consid- 
erable sum, and, lured by stories of the richness 

[322] 



HENRY VAN ASSELT. 

and vastness of the great Northwest, he returned 
to Portland in 1851, and, crossing the Colum- 
bia, made his way to the Sound country. On this 
trip he was accidently wounded, the bullet being 
imbedded in his shoulder. In the days of the 
Indian troubles on the Sound, Van Asselt was 
safe from the attacks of the hostiles, who held 
him in superstitious reverence because of the 
fact that he carried a bullet in his body. They 
believed that he could not be killed by a toma- 
hawk. This fact, perhaps, had much to do with 
his escape from assassination at the hands of the 
hostiles in the Indian war of 1855. 

"Jacob and Samuel Maple, who with L. M. 
Collins accompanied Mr. Van Asselt to Puget 
Sound, have been dead many years. Arthur A. 
Denny has been gathered to his fathers, along 
with many others of the old pioneers of King 
County and Washington. Van Asselt is the last 
of that hardy race that opened the wilderness on 
Puget Sound and made it blossom like the rose. 

"The news of the death of Van Asselt was 
received as a sad blow among the people of Van 
Asselt, where the aged pioneer spent the greater 
portion of his days in the house which still stands 
as a monument to his rugged pioneer days. In 
Van Asselt the people speak the name of the pio- 
neer with reverence on account of the many char- 
ities he extended to the poor during his lifetime, 
and also on account of the many acts which he 

£323] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

did in pioneer days to save and maintain the 
peaceful relations with the savages. 

"The marriage of Mr. and Mrs. Van Asselt 
was celebrated in this county, on Christmas even- 
ing 1862. All of those present at the wedding 
have now passed away with a few exceptions. 

"Mr. Van Asselt leaves a wife, Mrs. Mary 
Jane Maple Van Asselt; a son, Dr. J. H. Van 
Asselt; two daughters, Mrs. J. H. Benadom, of 
Puyallup, and Dr. Nettie Van Asselt Burling, 
and a grandson, Floyd Julian, son of Mrs. Mary 
Adriane Van Asselt Julian, who died in 1893. 
Mr. Van Asselt also leaves a brother, Rev. Gar- 
rett Van Asselt, of Utrecht, Holland, and several 
sisters in Holland. 

"The following were selected as active pall- 
bearers: William P. Harper, Dexter Horton, 
D. B. Ward, O. J. Carr, Isaac Parker, M. R. 
Maddocks. The honorary pallbearers were: 
Edgar Bryan, Rev. Daniel Bagley, P. M. Guye, 
Joseph Poster, William Carkeek, Judge Orange 
Jacobs. 

"As illustrative of the regard and esteem 
in which this pioneer was held by those who knew 
him best, Dexter Horton, the well known banker 
and capitalist, who met Mr. Van Asselt in 1852, 
said last night : 

" 'Mr. Van Asselt was a man of sterling 
character. His word was as good as a govern- 
ment bond. I knew him almost from the begin- 

[324] 



HENEY VAN ASSELT. 

ning of his life here. He was one of the kindliest 
men I ever met. 

" 'For fifteen years after I came to Seattle 
I conducted a general merchandise store here. 
There were mighty few of us here in those early 
tims, and we were all intimately acquainted. I 
dare say that when a newcomer had resided on 
the Sound, anywhere from Olympia to the Strait 
of Fuca, for thirty days, I became acquainted 
with him. They dropped in here to trade, travel- 
ing in Indian canoes. There never was a man 
of them that I did not trust to any reasonable ex- 
tent for goods, and my losses on that account in 
fifteen years' dealing with the early settlers were 
less than $1,000. This is sufficient testimony as 
to the character and integrity of the men who, 
like Van Asselt, faced the privations and dan- 
gers of the Western Trail to find homes for them- 
selves on the Pacific Coast. 

" 'Mr. Van Asselt located on a level farm in 
the Duwamish valley on his arrival here. He was 
a man of great energy and thrift, and soon had 
good and paying crops growing. He used to 
bring his produce to Seattle, either by Indian 
canoe, or afterwards, when a trail was cut under 
the brow of the hill, by teams. This produce 
was readily disposed of, as we had a large num- 
ber of men working in the mills and few to sup- 
ply their necessities. 

" 'I remember that after he had lived here 
for several years he moved to town and estab- 

[3251 



BLADING THE WAY. 

lished a cabinet maker's shop. He was an ex- 
pert in that line of work. I have an ancient 
curly maple bureau which he made for me, and 
Mrs. A. A. Denny has another. They are beau- 
tifully fashioned, Van Asselt being well skilled 
in the trade. Doubtless others among the old- 
timers here have mementos of his handicraft. 

" 'Van Asselt was of the type of men who 
blazed the path for generations that followed 
them to the Pacific Coast. His integrity was un- 
challenged, and his charities were numerous and 
unostentatious. He used to give every worthy 
newcomer work on his ranch, and many an emi- 
grant in those days got his first start from Henry 
Van Asselt. ' 

"Samuel Crawford knew Mr. Van Asselt in- 
timately since 1876. He said last night : 

" i Henry Van Asselt, or Uncle Henry, as 
we all called him, spent the winter of 1850-1851 
with my great-great-grandfather, Robert Moore, 
at Oregon City, Ore., or more properly speaking, 
on the west shore of the Willamette, just across* 
from Oregon City. Mr. Van Asselt told me this 
himself. Moore kept a large place, which was a 
sort of rendezvous for the immigrants, and many 
a man found shelter at his ranch. He gave them 
work enough to keep them going, and Van Asselt 
found employment with him that winter, making 
shingles from cedar bolts with a draw knife. 

" 'Mr. Van Asselt was one of the best men 
that ever lived. His word was as good as gold, 

[326] 



HENRY VAN ASSELT. 

and he never overlooked a chance to do a friend 
a favor. While he spoke English with difficulty, 
on occasion he could make a good speech, and he 
always took a deep interest in public affairs. 
There was probably no important public question 
involving the interests of Seattle and the Puget 
Sound country but that Mr. Van Asselt had his 
say. He did not care for public office, however, 
but preferred to go along in his quiet way, doing 
all the good that was possible. He firmly be- 
lieved in the future of Seattle, which he loved 
dearly, and I remember many years ago of his 
purchase of two blocks of ground on Renton Hill, 
in the vicinity of the residence where he passed 
the last years of his life. This was nearly twenty 
years ago. ' 

" Thomas W. Prosch had known Mr. Van 
Asselt for many years. He, too, paid a tribute to 
his fine character, and rugged honesty. 'Six 
years ago,' said Mr. Prosch, 'I went to talk with 
Mr. Van Asselt regarding his early experiences 
on the Sound. He told me of his long and ardu- 
ous trip across the plains in 1850, and of his es- 
capades with the Indians then and afterward. 
He said himself that he believed he led a charmed 
life, as the Indians took many a shot at him, but 
without avail. He was a dead shot himself, and 
the Indians had great respect for his skill. He 
was a very determined man, and undoubtedly had 
a great influence over the savages. 

" 'Mr. Van Asselt told me that he met Hill 

[327] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

Harmon, a well known Oregon settler, in the 
spring of 1851, and together they crossed the Co- 
lumbia and came to Olympia. Prom there they 
went with two or three others to Nesqually, 
where they met Luther M. Collins, one of the 
first settlers in King County. Collins endeav- 
ored to persuade them to locate near him, but 
they wanted a better place. Finally Collins 
brought them to the Duwamish valley and lo- 
cated them here. One of the party bought CoL 
lins' place at Nesqually, and he came here to lo- 
cate with Van Asselt and the others. Collins' 
family was the first white family to establish a 
home in King County.' " 



L 328] 



CHAPTER VIII. 



THOMAS MERCEK. 



" Thomas Mercer was born in Harrison coun- 
ty, Ohio, March 11, 1813, the eldest of a large 
family of children. He remained with his father 
until he was twenty-one, gaining a common 
school education and a thorough knowledge of 
the manufacture of woolen goods. His father 
was the owner of a well appointed woolen mill. 
The father, Aaron Mercer, was born in Virginia 
and was of the same family as General Mercer 
of revolutionary fame. His mother, Jane Dick- 
erson Mercer, was born in Pennsylvania of an 
old family of that state. 

The family .moved to Princeton, 111., in 1834, 
a period when buffalo were still occasionally 
found east of the Mississippi river, and savage 
Indians annoyed and harassed outlying settle- 
ments in that region. A remarkable coincidence 
is a matter of family tradition. Nancy Brigham, 
who later became Mr. Mercer's wife, and her 
family, were compelled^ to flee by night from 
their home near Dixon at the time of the Black 
Hawk war, and narrowly escaped massacre. In 
1856, about twenty years later, her daughters, 
the youngest only eight 3'ears old, also made a 
midnight escape in Seattle, two thousand miles 
away from the scene of their mother's adven- 

329 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

ture, and they endured the terrors of the attack 
upon the village a few days later when the shots 
and shouts of the thousand painted devils rang 
out in the forest on the hillside from a point 
near the present gas works to another near where 
Madison street ends at First Avenue. 

CROSSING THE PLAINS. 

In April, 1852, a train of about twenty 
wagons, drawn by horses, was organized at 
Princeton to cross the plains to Oregon. In this 
train were Thomas Mercer, Aaron Mercer, Dex- 
ter Horton, Daniel Bagley, William H. Shoudy, 
and their families. Some of these still live in 
or near Seattle and others settled in Oregon. 
Mr. Mercer was chosen captain of the train and 
discharged the arduous duties of that position 
fearlessly and successfully. Danger and disease 
were on both sides of the long, dreary way, and 
hundreds of new made graves were often count- 
ed along the roadside in a day. But this train 
seemed to bear a charmed existence. Not a mem- 
ber of the original party died on the way, al- 
though many were seriously ill. Only one ani- 
mal was lost. 

As the journey was fairly at an end and 
western civilization had been reached at The 
Dalles, Oregon, Mrs. Mercer was taken ill, but 
managed to keep up until the Cascades were 
reached. There she grew rapidly worse and 
soon died. Several members of the expedition 

[330] 



THOMAS MEBCER. 

went to Salem and wintered there, and in the 
early spring of 1853 Mercer and Dexter Horton 
came to Seattle and decided to make it their 
home. Mr. Horton entered immediately upon 
a business career, the success of which is known 
in California, Oregon and Washington, and Mr. 
Mercer settled upon a donation claim whose 
eastern end was the meander line of Lake Union 
and the western end, half way across to the bay. 
Mercer street is the dividing line between his 
and D. T. Denny's claims, and all of these tracts 
were included within the city limits about fifteen 
years ago. 

Mr. Mercer brought one span of horses and 
a wagon from the outfit with which he crossed 
the plains and for some time all the hauling of 
wood and merchandise was done by him. The 
wagon was the first one in King county. In 
1859 he went to Oregon for the summer and 
while there married Hester L. Ward, who* lived 
with him nearly forty years, dying last Novem- 
ber. During the twenty years succeeding his 
settlement here he worked hard clearing the 
farm and carrying on dairying and farming in 
a small way and doing much work with his team. 
In 1873 portions of the farm came into demand 
for homes and his sales soon put him in easy 
circumstances and in later years made him inde- 
pendent, though the past few years of hard 
times have left but a small part of the estate. 

The old home on the farm that the Indians 

L 331J 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

spared when other buildings in the county not 
protected by soldiers were burned, is still stand- 
ing and is the oldest building in the county. Mr. 
D. T. Denny had a log cabin on his place which 
was not destroyed — these two alone escaped. The 
Indians were asked, after the war, why they 
did not burn Mercer's house, to which they re- 
plied, "Oh, old Mercer might want it again." 
Denny and Mercer had always been particularly 
kind to the natives and just in their dealings, 
and the savages seem to have felt some little 
gratitude toward them. 

In the early '40s Mr. Mercer and Rev. Dan- 
iel Bagley were co-workers in the anti-slavery 
cause with Owen Love joy, of Princeton, who was 
known to all men of that period in the great 
Middle West. Later Mr. Mercer joined the Re- 
publican party and has been an ardent supporter 
of its men and measures down to the present. 
He served ten years as probate judge of King- 
county, and at the end of that period declined 
a renomination. 

In early life he joined the Methodist Prot- 
estant church and has ever been a consistent 
member of that body. Rev. Daniel Bagley was 
his pastor fifty-two years ago at Princeton, and 
continued to hold that relation to him in Seattle 
from 1860 until 1885, when he resigned his Se- 
attle pastorate. 

To Mr. Mercer belongs the honor of naming 
the lakes adjacent to and almost surrounding 

[332] 



THOMAS MERCER. 

the city. At a social gathering or picnic in 1855 
he made a short address and proposed the adop- 
tion of " Union" for the small lake between the 
bay and the large lake, and " Washington" for 
the other body of water. This proposition was 
received with favor and at once adopted. In 
the early days of the county and city he was 
always active in all public enterprises, ready 
alike with individual effort and with his purse, 
according to his ability, and no one of the city's 
thousands has taken a keener interest or greater 
pride than he in the recent development of the 
city's greatness, although he could no longer 
share actively in its accomplishment. He was 
exceedingly anxious to see the canal completed 
between salt water and the lakes. 

His oldest daughter, Mrs. Henry Parsons, 
lives near Olympia, and is a confirmed invalid. 
The second daughter was the first wife of Walter 
Graham, of this place, but died in 1862. The 
next younger daughters, Mrs. David Graham 
and Mrs. C. B. Bagley, lived near him and cared 
for him entirely since the death of Mrs. Mercer 
last November. In all the collateral branches 
the aged patriarch leaves behind him here in 
King county fully half a hundred of relatives of 
greater or lesser degrees of kinship. 

His generosity and benevolence have ever 
been proverbial. The churches, Y. M. C. A., 
orphanages and other objects of public benevo- 
lence and private charity have good cause to 

[333] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

remember his liberality. In a period of five 
years lie gave away at least $20,000 in public and 
private donations. 

Judge Mercer was a charter member of the 
Pioneers' Association, and took great interest 
in its affairs. He always made a special effort 
to attend the annual meeting, until the last two 
years, when his health would not permit. 

Another of the band of hardy pioneers who 
laid the foundation of the great commonwealth 
bounded by California on the south, British Co- 
lumbia on the north, the Rocky Mountains on 
the east and the illimitable Pacific toward the 
setting sun, has gone to rest. 

Judge Thomas Mercer died yesterday morn- 
ing, May 25th, at 5:15 o'clock, after a brief ill- 
ness, at his home in North Seattle, within a 
stone's throw of the old homestead where he and 
his four motherless daughters, all mere children, 
settled in the somber and unbroken forest two 
score and five years ago, when the Seattle of 
today consisted of a sawmill, a trading post and 
less than a half hundred white people." — (Prom 
Post-Intelligencer of May 26th, 1898.) 

For many years we looked across the valley 
to see the smoke from the fire on the Mercer 
hearthstone winding skyward, for they were our 
only neighbors. Even for this, we were not so 
solitary, nor quite so lonely as we must have been 
with no human habitation in our view. And 
then we felt the kindly presence, sympathy we 

[334] 



THOMAS MERCER. 

knew we could always claim, the cheerful greet- 
ings and friendly visits. 

When his aged pastor, Rev. Daniel Bagley, 
with snowy locks, stood above his bier and a troop 
of silver-haired pioneers in tearful silence hark- 
ened, he told of fifty years of friendship; how 
they crossed the plains together, and of the quiet, 
steady, Christian life of Thomas Mercer. 

He said, " Whatever other reasons may have 
been given, that he understood some Indians to 
say the reason they did not burn Mercer's house 
during the war, was that Mercer was 'klosh tum- 
tum,' (kind, friendly, literally a good heart), and 
'he wawa-ed Sahale Tyee' (prayed to the Heav- 
enly Chief or Great Spirit). Thus did he let 
his light shine ; even the savages beheld it." 

In closing a touching, suggestive and affec- 
tionate tribute, he quoted these lines: 

' ' what hath Jesus bought for me ! 
Before my ravish 'd eyes 
Rivers of life divine I see, 
And trees of Paradise; 
I see a world of spirits bright, 
Who taste the pleasures there; 
They all are robed in spotless white, 
And conqu'ring palms they bear." 

HESTER L. MERCER. 

When a child I often visited this good pio- 
neer woman — so faithful, cheerful, kind, self- 
forgetful. 

[335] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

With busy hands she toiled from morning 
to night, scarcely sitting down without some 
house-wifely task to occupy her while she 
chatted. 

Of a very lively disposition, her laugh was 
frequent and merry. 

A more generous, frank and warm-hearted 
nature was hard to find, the demands made upon 
it were many and such as to exhaust a shallow 
one. Her experiences were varied and thrilling, 
as the following account from the Seattle Post- 
Intelligencer of November 13th, 1897, will show : 

" There is something in the life of this pio- 
neer woman that makes a lasting impression up- 
on the minds of those who consider it. Mrs. 
Mercer's general life differed somewhat from 
the lives of many pioneer women in that she 
was always a pioneer. Many had given up an 
existence in the thickly settled portions of the 
east to accept the burdensome, half -civilized life 
of the west. They had at least once known the 
joys of civilization. It was not so with Mrs. 
Mercer. She was a pioneer from the time she 
was ushered into the world. 

She was born in Kentucky. Go back 75 
years in the life of that state and you will get 
something of its early history. Those who lived 
there that long ago were pioneers. Her father 
and mother were Jesse and Elizabeth Ward. 
They were of that staunch, sturdy people that 
struggled to obtain a home and accumulate a lit- 

[336] 



THOMAS MEECEE. 

tie fortune in the southern country. Jesse Ward 
at the age of 18 joined a regiment of Kentucky 
volunteers which was a part of Jackson's army 
at the defense of New Orleans in 1814. 

Mrs. Mercer was born in Hartford, the 
county seat of Ohio county, Kentucky. She was 
but a little tot when her mother died. 

Her father married again, and children, 
issues of the second marriage, had been born 
before Mr. Ward and his family said good-bye 
to old Kentucky or in reality, young Kentucky, 
and moved to Arkansas. That was in 1845. 
There they lived until 1853 and Hester Mercer 
had a chance of proving her true womanhood. 
The family had settled near Batesville, Inde- 
pendence county. At that time the county had 
much virgin soil and it was not a hard matter 
to figure up the population of the state. Mrs. 
Mercer seemed to be the head of the family. 
While the male members of the family were at 
work clearing land and establishing what they 
thought would be a permanent home, she was 
busily occupied in making clothes for herself 
and others of the family. And what a task it 
was in those days to make clothes. Crude ma- 
chinery, in the settled states of the east, turned 
out with what was considered wonderful rapid- 
ity, cloth for garments. But the common people 
of the West knew nothing of the details of such 
luxuries. 

Mrs. Mercer, then Hester Ward, took the 

i2- [337] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

wool from the sheep, cleaned it, wove it, dyed the 
cloth, cut and made it into clothing for her father 
and brothers. When she wanted a gown she 
could have it, that is, after she had gone into 
the fields, picked the necessary cotton, developed 
it into dress goods and turned the goods into a 
garment. 

Mr. D. B. Ward, a half brother of Mrs. 
Mercer, has in his possession pieces of the goods 
out of which she made her gowns when a girl. 

In 1853, Mr. Ward, having heard so much 
of the great opportunities that were offered to 
the pioneer who would accept life in the far 
West, started with his family and a party of 
other pioneers across the great Western plains. 
Stories without end could be told of the adven- 
tures and incidents, the results of that long jour- 
ney. There were nine children of Mr. Ward in 
his party. The start was made March 9, 1853, 
and on September 30, Waldo Hills, near Salem, 
Oregon, was reached. 

The Indians, of course, figured in the life 
of the Wards while they were crossing the plains, 
just as they seemed to come into the life of every 
other band of pioneers that undertook the jour- 
ney. When about eight miles, by the emigrant 
route, east of the North Platte, Mr. Ward's 
party encountered a big band of Arapahoes. 
Every one was a warrior. They were in full 
war regalia and dangling from their belts were 
dozens of scalps. They had been in battle with 

L338] 



HESTER L. MERCER. 

their enemies, the Blackfeet and Snake River 
Indians the day before. Crowned with victory, 
they were on their way home to celebrate. 

The Ward party had been resting in the 
woods and were about breaking camp to continue 
their journey when the Indian braves made their 
appearance. They insisted that they were 
friendly, but their behavior was not wholly con- 
sistent. They crowded in and about the wagons, 
wanted this and that and finally became impu- 
dent because their requests were denied. 

The Ward party had an old bugler with 
them ; when he placed his lips to the bugle some- 
thing that bordered on music came from the in- 
strument. While the Indians were making their 
presence known the old bugler grabbed up his 
bugle and let out several blasts, which echoed 
and re-echoed around. The leaves trembled, the 
trees seemed to shake and the Indian braves, 
who did not fear an encounter with a thousand 
Blackfeet, were dumbfounded. Their heads 
went up in the air, the ears of their horses shot 
forward. The leader of the braves murmured 
a few words in his native tongue and then like 
the wind those 400 braves were gone. If the 
Great White Father had appeared, as they prob- 
ably expected he would, he would have had to 
travel many miles to find the Arapahoes. 

The Ward party was soon out of the woods, 
when they met another band. The old chief was 
with them. He was mounted on a white mule 

[339] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

and produced a copy of a treaty with the govern- 
ment to show that his people loved the white men. 

Down in the valley through which the pio- 
neers were compelled to travel they saw many 
little tents. Other Indians were camped there. 
The old chief and his party accompanied the 
emigrants. Every Indian showed an ugly dis- 
position. The emigrants were compelled to stop 
in the midst of the tents in the valley. The old 
chief explained through an interpreter that his 
people had just come back from a great battle. 
They were hungry, he said, and wanted food and 
the emigrants would have to give it to them, for 
were not these whites, he said, passing through 
the sacred land of the Indian ? 

The Ward party was a small one, it could 
muster but 22 men. Each man was well armed, 
but the Indians were mixing up with them and 
it would have been impossible to get together for 
united action. It was necessary to submit to the 
wishes of the Indians. Bacon, sugar, flour and 
crackers were given up and the old chief divided 
them among his people. 

While this division was being made young 
braves were busying themselves by annoying the 
members of the party. Among the white people 
was a young woman who had charge of two 
horses attached to a light covered wagon. Sev- 
eral of the braves took a fancy to her. They 
gave the whites to understand that any woman 
who could drive horses was all right and must 

[340] 



HESTER L. MERCER. 

not go any farther. Mr. Ward and his men had 
a hard time keeping the Indians from stealing 
the girl. Once they crowded about her and for 
a time it was thought she would be taken by 
force. The white men and several of the women 
went to her rescue. Mrs. Mercer was in the 
rescue party. She shoved the Indians right and 
left and in the end the girl was rescued and 
smuggled into a closed wagon, where she re- 
mained concealed for some hours. 

Another young woman in the party had 
beautiful auburn hair. An Indian warrior took 
a fancy to her, thought she was the finest woman 
he had ever seen, and said that his people would 
compromise if she were given to him for a wife. 
Again there was trouble and the girl had to be. 
hidden in a closed wagon. 

The Indians kept up their annoyance of the 
party for some time, but finally their hunger 
got the better of them and they sat down to eat 
the food which the Ward party had under com- 
pulsion given them. 

The Indian chief consented that the white 
people should take their departure. They were 
quick to do so and were soon some distance from 
the Indian camp. 

After the Wards reached Oregon, Hester 
settled down to pioneer life with the other mem- 
bers of the family, but in the fall of 1859, Thomas 
Mercer, then probate judge of King county, 
Washington Territory, wooed and won her and 

[341] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

they were married. The wedding was one of the 
important affairs of early days. Rev. Daniel 
Bagley, of this city, performed the ceremony. 
After Mr. and Mrs. Mercer came to Seattle they 
took up their residence in a little house on First 
Avenue, near Washington Street. The Mercer 
home at present occupies a block of the old do- 
nation claim. The home is on Lombard Street, 
between Prospect and Villard Avenues. 

When Mr. and Mrs. Mercer came to Seattle, 
John Denny and wife and James Campbell and 
wife accompanied them. The three families 
swelled the population to thirteen families. 

D. B. Ward, a half brother of Mrs. Mercer, 
also came with them. 

1 Seattle was not a very big city in those 
days,' said Mr. Ward recently in discussing the 
matter. 'I remember that soon after my ar- 
rival I thought I would take a walk up in the 
woods. I went to the church, which stood where 
at present is the Boston National Bank building. 
I found windows filled with little holes. It was 
a great mystery to me. I went down town and 
made inquiry about it and was told that every 
hole represented a bullet fired by the Indians 
during the fight three years before.' 

Mrs. Mercer was a woman of many grand 
qualities; she never permitted any suffering to 
go on about her if she were in a position to re- 
lieve it. She was a good friend of the poor and 

[3421 



HESTER L. MERCER. 

did many kind acts of which the world knew but 
little." ' 

In the latter years of her life she was a 
patient, uncomplaining invalid, and finally en- 
tered into rest on the 12th of November, 1897, 
having lived in Seattle for thirty-nine years. 
She was buried with honor and affection; the 
pallbearers were old pioneers averaging a forty 
years' residence in the same place; D. T. Denny, 
the longest, being one of the founders, for forty- 
five years; they were Dexter Horton, T. D. 
Hinckley, D. T. Denny, Edgar Bryan, David 
Kellogg and Hans Nelson. 

Mr. Mercer, at the age of 84 (in 1897), still 
survives her, passing a peaceful old age in the 
midst of relatives and friends. 



13431 



CHAPTER IX. 

DR. HENRY A. SMITH, THE BRILLIANT WHITER. 

This well known pioneer joined the " mighty 
nation moving west" in 1852. From Portland, 
the wayside inn of weary travelers, he pushed 
on to Puget Sound, settling in 1853 on Elliott 
Bay, at a place known for many years as Smith's 
Cove. 

Being a gifted writer he has made numerous 
contributions to northwestern literature, both in 
prose and poetry. 

In a rarely entertaining set of papers en- 
titled " Early Reminiscences," he brings vividly 
to the minds of his readers the "good old times" 
on Elliott Bay, as he describes the manner of 
life, personal adventure, odd characters and 
striking environment of the first decade of set- 
tlement. In them he relates that after the White 
River massacre, he conveyed his mother to a 
place of safety, by night, in a boat with muffled 
oars. 

To quote his own words: "Early the next 
morning I persuaded James Broad and Charley 
Williamson, a couple of harum-scarum run-away 
sailors, to accompany me to my ranch in the 
cove, where we remained two weeks securing 
crops. We always kept our rifles near us while 
working in the field, so as to be ready for emerg- 

[344] 



DE. HENRY A. SMITH. 

encies, and brave as they seemed their faces sev- 
eral times blanched white as they sprang for 
their guns on hearing brush crack near them, 
usually caused by deer. One morning on going 
to the field where we were digging potatoes, we 
found fresh moccasin tracks, and judged from 
the difference in the size of the tracks that at 
least half a dozen savages had paid the field a 
visit during the night. As nothing had been 
disturbed we concluded that they were waiting 
in ambush for us and accordingly we retired to 
the side of the field farthest from the woods and 
began work, keeping a sharp lookout the while. 
Soon we heard a cracking in the brush and a 
noise that sounded like the snapping of a flint- 
lock. We grabbed our rifles and rushed into 
the woods where we heard the noise, so as to 
have the trees for shelter, and if possible to draw 
a bead on the enemy. On reaching shelter, the 
crackling sound receded toward Salmon Bay. 
But fearing a surprise if we followed the sound 
of retreat, we concluded to reach the Bav bv 
way of a trail that led to it, but higher up ; we 
reached the water just in time to see five red- 
skins land in a canoe, on the opposite side of the 
Bay where the Crooks' barn now stands. After 
that I had hard work to keep the runaways until 
the crop was secured, and did so only by keeping 
one of them secreted in the nearest brush con- 
stantly on guard. At night we barred the doors 
and slept in the attic, hauling the ladder up after 

12a- L 345] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

us. Sometimes, when the boys told blood-curd- 
ling stories until they became panicky by their 
own eloquence, we slept in the woods, but that 
was not often. 

In this way the crops were all saved, cel- 
lared and stacked, only to be destroyed after- 
ward by the torch of the common enemy. 

Twice the house was fired before it was 
finally consumed, and each time I happened to 
arrive in time to extinguish the flames, the in- 
cendiaries evidently having taken to their heels 
as soon as the torch was applied." 

While yet new to the country he met with 
an adventure not uncommon to the earliest set- 
tlers in the great forest, recorded as follows : 

"I once had a little experience, but a very 
amusing one, of being 'lost.' In the summer of 
1854, 1 concluded to make a trail to Seattle. Up 
to that time I had ridden to the city in a ' Chi- 
nook buggy. ' One bright morning I took a com- 
pass and started for Seattle on as nearly a 
straight line as possible. After an hour's travel 
the sun was hid by clouds and the compass had 
to be entirely relied upon for the right course. 
This was tedious business, for the woods had 
never been burned, and the old fallen timber 
was almost impassable. About noon I noticed 
to my utter astonishment, that the compass had 
reversed its poles. I knew that beds of mineral 
would sometimes cause a variation of the needle 
and was delighted at the thought of discovering 

[346] 



DR. HENRY A. SMITH. 

a valuable iron mine so near salt water. A good 
deal of time was spent in breaking bushes and 
thoroughly marking the spot so that there would 
be no difficulty in finding it again, and from that 
on I broke bushes as I walked, so as to be able to 
easily retrace my steps. Prom that place I fol- 
lowed the compass reversed, calculating, as I 
walked, the number of ships that would load an- 
nually at Seattle with pig-iron, and the amount 
of ground that would be eventually covered at 
the cove with furnaces, rolling mills, foundries, 
tool manufacturing establishments, etc. 

As night came on I became satisfied that I 
had traveled too far to the east, and had passed 
Seattle, and the prospect of spending a night in 
the woods knocked my iron calculations into pi. 
Soon, however, I was delighted to see a clearing 
ahead, and a shake-built shanty that I concluded 
must be the ranch that Mr. Nagle had com- 
menced improving some time before, and which, 
I had understood, lay between Seattle and Lake 
Washington. When I reached the fence sur- 
rounding the improvements, I seated myself on 
one of the top rails for a seat and to ponder the 
advisability of remaining with my new neighbor 
over night, or going on to town. While sitting 
thus, I could not help contrasting his improve- 
ments with my own. The size of the clearing 
was the same, the house was a good deal like 
mine, the only seeming difference was that the 
front of his faced the west, whereas the front of 

[347] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

mine faced the east. While puzzling over this 
strange coincidence, my own mother came out 
of the house to feed the poultry that had com- 
menced going to roost, in a rookery for all the 
world like my own, only facing the wrong way. 
'In the name of all that's wonderful!' I thought, 
'what is she doing here? and how did she get 
here ahead of me?' Just then the world took a 
spin around, my ranch wheeled into line, and, 
lo ! I was sitting on my own fence, and had been 
looking at my own improvements without know- 
ing them. " And from this he draws a moral and 
adorns the tale with the philosophic conclusion 
that people cannot see and think alike owing to 
their point of view, and we therefore must be 
charitable. 

Until accustomed to it and schooled in wood- 
craft, the mighty and amazing forest was be- 
wildering and mysterious to the adventurous 
settler; however, they soon learned how not to 
lose themselves in its labyrinthine depths. 

Dr. Smith is a past master in description, 
as will be seen by this word-picture of a fire in 
a vast pitchy and resinous mass of combustible 
material. I have witnessed many, each a mag- 
nificent display. 

"Washington beats the world for variety 
and magnificence of awe inspiring mountains 
and other scenery. I have seen old ocean in her 
wildest moods, have beheld the western prairie 
on fire by night, when the long, waving lines of 

[348] 



DE. HENEY A. SMITH. 

flame flared and flashed their red light against 
the low, fleecy clouds till they blossomed into 
roseate beauty, looking like vast spectral flower 
gardens, majestically sweeping through the 
heavens; have been in the valley of the river 
Platte, when all the windows of the sky and a 
good many doors opened at once and the cloud- 
masked batteries of the invisible hosts of the 
air volleyed and thundered till the earth fairly 
reeled beneath the terrific cannonade that tore 
its quivering bosom with red-hot bombs until 
awe-stricken humanity shriveled into utter noth- 
ingness in the presence of the mad fury of the 
mightiest forces of nature. But for magnifi- 
cence of sublime imagery and awe-inspiring 
grandeur a forest fire raging among the gigantic 
firs and towering cedars that mantle the shores 
of Puget Sound, surpasses anything I have ever 
beheld, and absolutely baffles all attempts at de- 
scription. It has to be seen to be comprehended. 
The grandest display of forest pyrotechnics is 
witnessed when an extensive tract that has been 
partly cleared by logging is purposely or acci- 
dentally fired. When thus partly cleared, all the 
tops of the fir, cedar, spruce, pine and hemlock 
trees felled for their lumber remain on the 
ground, their boughs fairly reeking with balsam. 
All inferior trees are left standing, and in early 
days when only the very choicest logs would be 
accepted by the mills, about one-third would be 
left untouched, and then the trees would stand 

[3491 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

thicker, mightier, taller than in the average 
forest of the eastern and middle states. 

I once witnessed the firing of a two thousand 
acre tract thus logged over. It was noon in the 
month of August, and not a breath of air moved 
the most delicate ferns on the hillsides. The 
birds had hushed their songs for their midday 
siesta, and the babbling brook at our feet had 
grown less garrulous, as if in sympathy with the 
rest of nature, when the torch was applied. A 
dozen or more neighbors had come together to 
witness the exhibition of the unchained element 
about to hold high carnival in the amphitheater 
of the hills, and each one posted himself, rifle in 
hand, in some conspicuous place at least a quar- 
ter of a mile from the slashing in order to get a 
shot at any wild animal fleeing from the ' wrath 
to come.' 

The tract was fired simultaneously on all 
sides by siwashes, who rapidly circled it with 
long brands, followed closely by rivers of flame 
in hot pursuit. 

As soon as the fire worked its way to the 
massive winrows of dry brush, piled in making 
roads in every direction, a circular wall of solid 
flame rose half way to the tops of the tall trees. 
Soon the rising of the heated air caused strong 
currents of cooler air to set in from every side. 
The air currents soon increased to cyclones. 
Then began a race of the towering, billowy, surg- 
ing walls of fire for the center. Driven furiously 

C350] 



DE. HENEY A. SMITH. 

on by these ever-increasing, eddying, and fierce- 
ly contending tornadoes, the flames lolled and 
rolled and swayed and leaped, rising higher and 
higher, until one vast, circular tidal wave of 
liquid fire rolled in and met at the center witH 
the whirl and roar of pandemoniac thunder and 
shot up in a spiral and rapidly revolving red-hot 
cone, a thousand feet in mid-air, out of whose 
flaring and crater-like apex poured dense vol- 
umes of tarry smoke, spreading out on every 
side, like unfolding curtains of night, till the 
sun was darkened and the moon was turned to 
blood and the stars seemed literally raining from 
heaven, as glowing firebrands that had been 
carried up by the fierce tornado of swirling flame 
and carried to immense distances by upper air 
currents, fell back in showers to the ground. 
The vast tract, but a few moments before as 
quiet as a sleeping infant in its cradle, was now 
one vast arena of seething, roaring, raging flame. 
The long, lithe limbs of the tall cedars were toss- 
ing wildly about, while the strong limbs of the 
sturdier firs and hemlocks were freely gyrating 
like the sinewy arms of mighty giant athletes 
engaged in mortal combat. Ever and anon their 
lower, pitch-dripping branches would ignite 
from the fervent heat below, when the flames 
would rush to the very tops with the roar of con- 
tending thunders and shoot upward in bright 
silvery volumes from five to seven hundred feet, 
or double the height of the trees themselves. 

[3511 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

Hundreds of these fire-volumes flaring and flam- 
ing in quick succession and sometimes many of 
them simultaneously, in conjunction with the 
weird eclipse-like darkness that veiled the heav- 
ens, rendered the scene one of awful grandeur 
never to be forgotten. 

So absorbed were we all in the preternatural 
war of the fiercely contending elements that we 

forgot our guns, our game and ourselves. 
******* 

The burnt district, after darkness set in, 
was wild and weird in the extreme. The dry 
bark to the very tops of the tall trees was on fire 
and constantly falling off in large flakes, and 
the air was filled ever and anon with dense show- 
ers of golden stars, while the trees in the environs 
seemed to move about through the fitful shadows 
like grim brobdignags clad in sheeny armor." 

Having witnessed many similar conflagra- 
tions I am able to say that the subject could 
scarcely be better treated. 

Through the courtesy of the author, Dr. H. 
A. Smith, I have been permitted to insert the 
following poem, which has no doubt caused many 
a grim chuckle and scowl of sympathy, too, from 
the old pioneers of the Northwest : 

"the moktgage. 

The man who holds a mortgage on my farm 
And sells me out to gratify his greed, 
Is shielded by our shyster laws from harm, 
And ever laud for the dastard deed! 

[352] 



DR. HENRY A. SMITH. 

Though morally the man is really worse 

Than if he knocked me down and took my purse ; 

The last would mean, at most, a moment's strife, 

The first would mean the struggle of a life, 

And homeless children wailing in the cold, 

A prey to want and miseries manifold; 

Then if I loot him of his mangy pup 

The guardians of the law will lock me up, 

And jaundiced justice fly into a rage 

While pampered Piety askance my rags will scan, 

And Shylock shout, ' ' Behold a dangerous man ! ' ' 

But notwithstanding want to Heaven cries, 

And villains masquerade in virtue's guise, 

And Liberty is moribund or dead — 

Except for men who corporations head — 

One little consolation still remains, 

The human race will one day rend its chains.' 7 

In transcribing Indian myths and religions 
beliefs, Dr. Smith displays much ability. After 
having had considerable acquaintance with the 
native races, he concludes that "Many persons 
are honestly of the opinion that Indians have no 
ideas above catching and eating salmon, but if 
they will lay aside prejudice and converse freely 
with the more intelligent natives, they will soon 
find that they reason just as well on all subjects 
that attract their attention as we do, and being 
free from pre-conceived opinions, they go di- 
rectly to the heart of theories and reason both 
inductively and deductively with surprising 
clearness and force." 

Dr. Smith exhibits in his writings a broadly 

[353] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

charitable mind which sees even in the worst, 
still some lingering or smothered good. 

Dr. Smith is one of a family of patriots; 
his great-grandfather, Copelton Smith, who 
came from Germany to America in 1760 and 
settled in or near Philadelphia, Pa., fought for 
liberty in the war of the Revolution under Gen- 
eral Washington. His father, Nicholas Smith, 
a native of Pennsylvania, fought for the Stars 
and Stripes in 1812. Two brothers fought fox 
Old Glory in the war of the Rebellion, and he 
himself was one of the volunteers who fought 
for their firesides in the State, then Territory of 
Washington. 

"A family of fighters," as he says, " famous 
for their peaceful proclivities when let alone." 

The varied experiences of life in the North- 
west have developed in him a sane and sweet 
philosophy, perhaps nowhere better set forth in 
his writings than in his poem "Pacific's Pio- 
neers," read at a reunion of the founders of the 
state a few years ago, and with which I close 
this brief and inadequate sketch : 

"pacific's pioneeks. 

"A greeting to Pacific's Pioneers, 
Whose peaceful lives are drawing to a close, 
Whose patient toil, for lo these many years, 
Has made the forest blossom as the rose. 

And bright-browed women, bonny, brave and true, 
And laughing lasses, sound of heart and head, 

[354] 



DR. HENRY A. SMITH. 

Who home and kindred bade a last adieu 
To follow love where fortune led. 

I do not dedicate these lines alone 
To men who live to bless the world today, 
But I include the nameless and unknown 
The pioneers who perished by the way. 

Not for the recreant do my numbers ring, ■ 

The men who spent their lives in sport and spree, 
Nor for the barnacles . that always cling 
To every craft that cruises Freedom's sea. 

But nearly all were noble, brave and kind, 
And little eared for fame or fashion's gyves; 
And though they left their Sunday suits behind 
They practiced pure religion all their lives. 

Their love of peace no people could excel, 
Their dash in war the poet's pen awaits; 
Their sterling loyalty made possible 
Pacific's golden galaxy of states. 

They had no time to bother much about 
Contending creeds that vex the nation's Hub, 
But then they left their leather latches out 
To every wandering Arab short of grub. 

Cut off from all courts, man's earthly shield from 

harm, 
They looked for help to Him whose court's above, 
And learned to lean on labor's honest arm, 
And live the higher law, the law of love. 

Not one but ought to wear a crown of gold, 
If crowns were made for men who do their best 

[355] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

Amid privations cast and manifold 
That unborn generations may be blest. 

Among these rugged pioneers the rule 
"Was equal rights, and all took special pride 
In 'tending Mother Nature's matchless school, 
And on her lessons lovingly relied. 

And this is doubtless why they are in touch 
With Nature's noblemen neath other skies; 
And though of books they may not know as much 
Their wisdom lasts, as Nature never lies. 

And trusting God and His unerring plan 
As only altruistic natures could 
Their faith extended to their fellow man, 
The image of the Author of all good. 

Since Nature here has done her best to please 
By making everything in beauty's mold, 
Loads down with balm of flowers every breeze, 
And runs her rivers over reefs of gold, 

It seems but natural that men who yearn 
For native skies, and visit scenes of yore, 
Are seldom satisfied till they return 
To roam the Gardens of the Gods once more ! 

And since they fell in love with nature here 
How fitting they should wish to fall asleep 
Where sparkling mountain spires soar and spear 
The stainless azure of the upper deep. 

And yet we're saddened when the papers say 
Another pioneer has passed away! 

[3561 



DR. HENRY A. SMITH. 

And memory recalls when first, forsooth, 
We saw him in the glorious flush of youth. 

How plain the simple truth when seen appears, 

No wonder that faded leaves we fall ! 

This is the winter of the pioneers 

That blows a wreath of wrinkles to us all ! 

A few more mounds for faltering feet to seek, 
When, somewhere in this lovely sunset-land 
Like some weird, wintry, weather-beaten peak 
Some rare old Roman all alone will stand. 

But not for long, for ere the rosy dawn 
Of many golden days has come and gone, 
Our pine-embowered bells will shout to every shore 
"Pacific's Pioneers are now no more !" 

But lovely still the glorious stars will glow y 

And glitter in God's upper deep like pearls 
And mountains too will wear their robes of snow 
Just as they did when we were boys and girls. 

Ah well, it may be best, and is, no doubt, 

As death is quite as natural as birth 

And since no storms can blow the sweet stars out, 

Why should one wish to always stay on earth ? 

Especially as God can never change, 
And man's the obejct of His constant care 
And though beyond the Pleiades we range 
His boundless love and mercy must be there." 



[357] 



CHAPTER X. 

FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFS. 

Sealth or "Old Seattle," a peaceable son of 
the forest, was of a line of chieftains, his father, 
Schweabe, or Schweahub, a chief before him of 
the Suquampsh tribe inhabiting a portion of the 
west shore of Puget Sound, his mother, a Du- 
wampsh of Elliott Bay, whose name was Wood- 
sho-lit-sa. 

Sealth 's birthplace was the famous Oleman 
House, near the site of which he is now buried. 
Oleman House was an immense timber structure, 
long ago inhabited by many Indians ; scarcely a 
vestige of it now remains. It was built by 
Sealth 's father. Chief Sealth was twice married 
and had three sons and five daughters, the last of 
whom, Angeline, or Ka-ki-is-il-ma, passed away 
on May 31, 1896. In an interview she informed 
me that her grandfather, Schweabe, was a tall, 
slim man, while Sealth was rather heavy as well 
as tall. Sealth was a hunter, she said, but not a 
great warrior. In the time of her youth there 
were herds of elk near Oleman House which 
Sealth hunted with the bow or gun. 

The elk, now limited to the fastnesses of the 
Olympic Mountains, were also hunted in the cove 
south of West Seattle, by Englishmen, Sealth 's 

[358] 



FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFS. 

cousin, Tse-tse-guis, helping, with other Indians, 
to carry out the game. 

Angeline further said that her father, "Old 
Seattle," as the white people called him, inher- 
ited the chief ship when a little boy. As he grew 
up he became more important, married, obtained 
slaves, of whom he had eight when the Dennys 
came, and acquired wealth. Of his slaves, Yute- 
stid is living (1899) and when reminded of him 
she laughed and repeated his name several times, 
saying, " Yutestid ! Yutestid ! How was it possible 
for me to forget him? Why, we grew up to- 
gether!" Yutestid was a slave by descent, as 
also were five others ; the remaining two he had 
purchased. It is said that he bought them out 
of pity from another who treated them cruelly. 

Sealth, Keokuk, William and others, with 
quite a band of Duwampsh and Suquampsh In- 
dians, once attacked the Chimacums, surrounded 
their large house or rancheree at night ; at some 
distance away they joined hands forming a cir- 
cle and gradually crept up along the ground un- 
til quite near, when they sprang up and fired 
upon them; the terrified occupants ran out and 
were killed by their enemies. On entering they 
found one of the wounded crawling around cry- 
ing "Ah! A-ah!" whom they quickly dispatched 
with an ax. 

A band of Indians visited Alki in 1851, who 
told the story to the white settlers, imitating their 

[359] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

movements as the attacking party and evidently 
much enjoying the performance. 

About the year 1841, Sealth set himself to 
avenge the death of his nephew, Almos, who was 
killed by Owhi. With five canoe loads of his 
warriors, among whom was Curley, he ascended 
White River and attacked a large camp, killed 
more than ten men and carried the women and 
children away into captivity. 

At one time in Olympia some renegades who 
had planned to assassinate him, fired a shot 
through his tent but he escaped unhurt. Dr. 
Maynard, who visited him shortly after, saw that 
while he talked as coolly as if nothing unusual 
had occurred, he toyed with his bow and arrow 
as if he felt his power to deal death to the plot- 
ters, but nothing was ever known of their punish- 
ment. 

Sealth was of a type of Puget Sound In- 
dian whose physique was not by any means con- 
temptible. Tall, broad shouldered, muscular, 
even brawny, straight and strong, they made for- 
midable enemies, and on the warpath were suf- 
ficiently alarming to satisfy the most exacting 
tenderfoot whose contempt for the "bowlegged 
siwash" is by no means concealed. Many of the 
old grizzly-haired Indians were of large frame 
and would, if living, made a towering contrast to 
their little " runts" of critics. 

Neither were their minds dwarfed, for evi- 
dently not narrowed by running in the grooves 

[360] 



FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFS. 

of other men's thoughts, they were free to nour- 
ish themselves upon nature and from their mag- 
nificent environment they drew many striking 
comparisons. 

Not versed in the set phrases of speech, time- 
worn and hackneyed, their thoughts were naive, 
fresh, crude and angular as the frost-rended 
rocks on the mountain side. A number of these 
Indians were naturally gifted as orators; with 
great, mellow voices, expressive gestures, flam- 
ing earnestness, piteous pathos and scorching 
sarcasm, they told their wrongs, commemorated 
their dead and declared their friendship or hat- 
red in a voluminous, pollysyllabic language no 
more like Chinook than American is like pigeon 
English. 

The following is a fragment valuable for the 
intimation it gives of their power as orators, as 
well as a true description of the appearance of 
Sealth, written by Dr. H. A. Smith, a well known 
pioneer, and published in the Seattle Sunday 
'Star of October 29, 1877: 

"Old Chief Seattle was the largest Indian I 
ever saw, and by far the noblest looking. He 
stood nearly six feet in his moccasins, was broad- 
shouldered, deep-chested and finely proportioned. 
His eyes were large, intelligent, expressive and 
friendly when in repose, and faithfully mirrored 
the varying moods of the great soul that looked 
through them. He was usually solemn, silent 
and dignified, but on great occasions moved 

[-361] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

among assembled multitudes like a Titan among 
Lilliputians, and his lightest word was law. 

" When rising to speak in council or to ten- 
der advice, all eyes were turned upon him, and 
deep-toned, sonorous and eloquent sentences 
rolled from his lips like the ceaseless thunders of 
cataracts flowing from exhaustless fountains, and 
his magnificent bearing was as noble as that of 
the most civilized military chieftain in command 
of the force of a continent. Neither his elo- 
quence, his dignity nor his grace was acquired. 
They were as native to his manhood as leaves 
and blossoms are to a flowering almond. 

"His influence was marvelous. He might 
have been an emperor but all his instincts were 
democratic, and he ruled his subjects with kind- 
ness and paternal benignity. 

"He was always flattered by marked atten- 
tions from white men, and never so much as 
when seated at their tables, and on such occa- 
sions he manifested more than anywhere else 
his genuine instincts of a gentleman. 

"When Governor Stevens first arrived in 
Seattle and told the natives that he had been 
appointed commissioner of Indian affairs for 
Washington Territory, they gave him a demon- 
strative reception in front of Dr. Maynard's 
office near the water front on Main Street. The 
bay swarmed with canoes and the shore was lined 
with a living mass of swaying, writhing, dusky 
humanity, until Old Chief Seattle's trumpet- 

[,3621 



FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFS. 

toned voice rolled over the immense multitude 
like the reveille of a bass drum, when silence be- 
came as instantaneous and perfect as that which 
follows a clap of thunder from a clear sky. 

"The governor was then introduced to the 
native multitude by Dr. Maynard, and at once 
commenced in a conversational, plain and 
straightforward style, an explantion of his mis- 
sion among them, which is too well understood 
to require recapitulation. 

"When he sat down, Chief Seattle arose, 
with all the dignity of a senator who carries the 
responsibilities of a great nation on his shoulders. 
Placing one hand on the governor's head, and 
slowly pointing heavenward with the index fin- 
ger of the other, he commenced his memorable 
address in solemn and impressive tones : 

" i Yonder sky has wept tears of compassion 
on our fathers for centuries untold, and which to 
us, looks eternal, may change. Today it is fair, 
tomorrow it may be overcast with clouds. My 
words are like the clouds that never set. What 
Seattle says the chief Washington can rely upon, 
with as much certainty as our pale-face brothers 
can rely upon the return of the seasons. The son 
of the white chief says his father sends us greet- 
ings of friendship and goodwill. This is kind, 
for we know he has little need of our friendship 
in return, because his people are many. They are 
like the grass that covers the vast prairie, while 

[363] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

my people are few and resemble the scattering 
trees of a storm-swept plain. 

" 'The great, and I presume good, white 
chief sends us word that he wants to buy our 
lands, but is willing to allow us to reserve enough 
to live on comfortably. This indeed appears gen- 
erous, for the red man no longer has rights that 
he need respect, and the offer may be wise also, 
for we are no longer in need of a great country. 

" ' There was a time when our people cov- 
ered the whole land as the waves of a wind-ruf- 
fled sea covers its shell-paved shore. That time 
has long since passed away with the greatness of 
tribes almost forgotten. I will not mourn over 
our untimely decay, or reproach my pale-face 
brothers with hastening it, for we, too, may have 
been somewhat to blame. 

"When our young men grew angry at some 
real or imaginary wrong and disfigured their 
faces with black paint, their hearts also are dis- 
figured and turned black, and then cruelty is re- 
lentless and knows no bounds, and our old men 
are not able to restrain them. ' 

"He continued in this eloquent strain and 
closed by saying: 'We will ponder your propo- 
sition and when we have decided we will tell you, 
but should we accept it I here and now make this 
first condition : That we shall not be denied the 
privilege, without molestation, of visiting at will 
the graves of our ancestors and friends. Every 
part of this country is sacred to my people ; ev- 

[-364] 



FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFS. 



ery hillside, every valley, every plain and grove 
has been hallowed by some fond memory or some 
sad experience of my tribe. 

" 'Even the rocks that seem to lie dumb, as 
they swelter in the sun, along the silent seashore 
in solemn grandeur, thrill with memories of past 
events, connected with the fate of my people and 
the very dust under our feet responds more lov- 
ingly to our footsteps than to yours, because it is 
the ashes of our ancestors and their bare feet are 
conscious of the sympathetic touch, for the soil 
is rich with the life of our kindred. At night 
when the streets of your cities and villages shall 
be silent and you think them deserted they will 
throng with the returning hosts that once filled 
and still love this beautiful land. The white man 
will never be alone. Let him be just and deal 
kindly with my people, for the dead are not alto- 
gether powerless. ' " 

Concerning the well-known portrait of 
Sealth, Clarence Bagley has this to say : 

"It was in the early summer of 1865 that the 
original picture which is now so much seen of the 
old chief was taken. I think I probably have a 
diary giving the day upon which the old chief sat 
for his picture. An amateur artist named E. M, 
Sammis had secured a camera at Olympia and 
coming to Seattle established himself in a ram- 
shackle building at the southeast corner of what 
is now Main and First Avenue South. Old Chief 
Seattle used often to hang about the gallery and 

[365] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

scrutinize the pictures with evident satisfaction. 
I myself spent not a little time in and about the 
gallery and on the particular day the picture of 
the old chief was taken, was there. It occurred 
to the photographer to get a picture of the chief. 
The latter was easily persuaded to sit and it is a 
wrong impression, that has become historic, that 
the Indians generally were afraid of the photog- 
rapher 's art, considering it black magic. 

" The chief's picture was taken and I printed 
the first copy taken from the negative. There 
may possibly have been photographs taken of 
the old chief at a later date, but I do not remem- 
ben any, certainly none earlier, that I ever knew 
of." 

With regard to Sealth's oratory, D. T. Den- 
ny relates that when the chief with his "tillicum" 
camped on the " Point" near the site of the New 
England Hotel, often in the evening he would 
stand upland address his people. D. T. Denny's 
home was near the site of the Stevens Hotel 
(Marion and First Avenue, Seattle), and many 
Indians were camped near by. When these heard 
Chief Sealth's voice, they would turn their heads 
in a listening attitude and evidently understood 
what he was saying, although he was about three-* 
fourths of a mile away, such was the resonance 
and carrying power of his voice. 

My father has also related to me this inci- 
dent: Sealth and his people camped alongside 
the little white settlement at Alki. While there 

[366] 



FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFS. 

one of his wives died and A. A. Denny made a 
coffin for the body, but they wrapped the same 
in so many blankets that it would not go in and 
they were obliged to remove several layers, al- 
though they probably felt regret as the number 
of wrappings no doubt evidenced wealth and 
position. 

D. T. Denny was well acquainted with 
George Seattle, or See-an-ump-kun, one of 
Sealth's sons, who was a friendly, good-natured 
Indian, married to a woman of the Sklallam 
tribe. The other surviving son when the whites 
arrived, was called Jim Seattle. 

Thlid Kanem was a cousin of Sealth. 

On the 7th of June, 1866, the famous old 
chieftain joined the Great Majority. 

He had outlived many of his race, doubtless 
because of his temperate habits. 

If, as the white people concluded, he was 
born in 1786, his age was eighty years. It might 
well have been greater, as they have no records 
and old Indians show little change often in twen- 
ty or twenty-five years, as I have myself ob- 
served. 

In 1890 some leading pioneers of Seattle 
erected a monument to his memory over his grave 
in the Port Madison reservation. A Christian 
emblem it is, a cross of Italian marble adorned 
with an ivy wreath and bears this legend : 



[3671 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

" SEATTLE 

CMef of the Suqamps and Allied Tribes, 

Died June 7, 1866. 

The Firm Friend of the Whites, and for Him the 

City of Seattle was Named by Its 

Founders." 

Also on the side opposite, 

" Baptismal name, Noah Sealth, Age probably 

80 years." 

LESCHI. 

Leschi was a noted Nesqually-Klickitat 
chief, who at the head of a body of warriors at- 
tacked Seattle in 1856. 

Other chiefs implicated were, Kitsap, Kan- 
asket, Quiemuth, Owhi and Coquilton. 

Leschi being accused of influencing the In- 
dians at Seattle, who were friendly, in January, 
1856, an attempt was made to capture him by 
Captain Keyes of Fort Steilacoom. Keyes sent 
Maloney and his company in the Hudson Bay 
Company's steamer " Beaver" to take him pris- 
oner. 

They attempted to land but Leschi gathered 
up his warriors and prepared to fight. Being 
at a decided disadvantage, as but a few could 
land at a time, the soldiers were obliged to with- 
draw. Keyes made a second attempt in the sur- 
veying steamer " Active"; having no cannon he 
tried to borrow a howitzer from the "Decatur" 
at Seattle, but the captain refused to loan it and 
Keyes returned to get a gun at the fort. Leschi 

[-368] 



FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFS. 

prudently withdrew to Puyallup, where lie con- 
tinued his warlike preparations. Followed by 
quite an army of hostile Indians, he landed on 
the shore of Lake Washington, east of Seattle, 
at a point near what is now called Leschi Park, 
and on the 26th of January, 1856, made the 
memorable attack on Seattle. 

The cunning and skill of the Indian in war- 
fare were no match for the white man's cannon 
and substantial defenses and Leschi was de- 
feated. He threatened a second attack but none 
was ever made. By midsummer the war was at 
an end. 

By an agreement of a council held in the 
Yakima country, between Col. Wright and the 
conquered chiefs, among whom were Leschi, 
Quiemuth, Nelson, Stahi and the younger Kit- 
sap, they were permitted to go free on parole, 
having promised to lead peaceable lives. Leschi 
complied with the agreement but feared the re- 
venge of white men, so gave himself up to Dr. 
Tolmie, as stated elsewhere. Dr. Tolmie was 
Chief Factor of the Hudson Bay Company. He 
came from Scotland in 1833 with another young 
surgeon and served in the medical department 
at Fort Vancouver several years. Dr. Tolmie 
was a prominent figure at Fort Nesqually, a very 
influential man with the Indians and distin- 
guished for his ability ; he lived in Victoria many 
years, where he died at a good old age. 

A special term of court was held to try Les- 

13- [369] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

chi for a murder which it could not be proven he 
committed and the jury failed to agree. He was 
tried again in March, 1857, convicted and sen- 
tenced to be hanged on the 10th of June. The 
case was carried up to the supreme court and the 
verdict sustained. Again he was sentenced to 
die on the 22nd of January, 1858. A strong ap- 
peal was made by those who wished to see justice 
done, to Gov. McMullin, who succeeded Gov. 
Stevens, but a protest prevailed, and when the 
day set for execution arrived, a multitude of peo- 
ple gathered to witness it at Steilacoom. But the 
doomed man's friends saw the purpose was re- 
venge and a sharp reproof was administered. The 
sheriff and his deputy were arrested, for selling 
liquor to the Indians, before the hour appointed, 
and held until the time passed. Greatly chag- 
rined at being frustrated, the crowd held meet- 
ings the same evening and by appealing to the 
legislature and some extraordinary legislation in 
sympathy with them, supplemented by "ground 
and lofty tumbling" in the courts, Leschi was 
sentenced for the third time. 

On the 19th of February, 1858, worn by sick- 
ness and prolonged imprisonment he was mur- 
dered in accordance with the sentiment of his 
enemies. 

No doubt the methods of savage warfare 
were not approved, but that did not prevent their 
hanging a man on parole. 

On July 3rd, 1895, a large gathering of In- 

[370] 



FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFS. 

dians assembled on the Nesqually reservation. 
Over one thousand were there. They met to re- 
move the bones of Leschi and Quiemuth to the 
reservation. The ceremonies were very impres- 
sive ; George Leschi, a nephew cf Leschi and son 
of Quiemuth, made a speech in the Indian tongue. 
He said the war was caused by the whites de- 
manding that the Nesqually and Puyallup In- 
dians be removed to the Quiniault reservation on 
the Pacific Coast, and their reservation thrown 
open for settlement. It was in battling for the 
rights of their people and to preserve the lands 
of their forefathers, he said, that the war was 
inaugurated by the Indian chiefs. 

PAT KANEM. 

The. subject of this sketch was one of the 
most interesting characters brought into promi- 
nence by the conflict of the two races in early 
days of conquest in the Northwest. That he was 
sometimes misunderstood was inevitable as he 
was self-contained and independent in his nature 
and probably concealed his motives from friend 
and foe alike. 

The opinion of the Indians was not wholly 
favorable to him as he became friendly to the 
white people, especially so toward some who were 
influential. 

Pat Kanem was one of seven brothers, his 
mother a Snoqualmie of which tribe he was the 
recognized leader, his father, of another tribe, 
the Soljampsh. 

[3711 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

It is said that he planned the extermination 
or driving out of the whites and brought about a 
collision at old Fort Nesqually in 1849, when 
Leander Wallace was killed, he and his warriors 
having picked a quarrel with the Indians in that 
vicinity who ran to the fort for protection. It 
seems impossible to ascertain the facts as to the 
intention of the Snoqualmies because of conflict- 
ing accounts. Some who are well acquainted 
with the Indians think it was a quarrel, pure and 
simple, between the Indians camped near by and 
the visiting Snoqualmies, without any ulterior 
design upon the white men or upon the fort it- 
self. Also, Leander Wallace persisted in boast- 
ing that he could settle the difficulty with a club 
and contrary to the persuasions of the people in 
the fort went outside, thereby losing his life. 

Four of Pat Kanem's brothers were ar- 
rested ; and although one shot killed Wallace, two 
Indians were hung, a proceeding which would 
hardly have followed had they been white men. 
John Kanem, one of Pat Kanem's brothers, often 
visited Mr. and Mrs. D. T. Denny afterward, 
and would repeat again and again, "They killed 
my brother" (Kluskie mem-a-loose nika ow). 

A Snoqualmie Indian in an interview recent- 
ly said that Qushun (Little Cloud) persuaded 
Pat Kanem to give up his brother so that he 
might surely obtain and maintain the chiefship. 
Whatever may have been his attitude at first to- 

L372] 



FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFS. 

ward the white invaders he afterward became 
their ally in subduing the Indian outbreak. 

As A. A. Denny recounts in his valuable 
work " Pioneer Days on Puget Sound," Pat 
Kanem gave him assurance of his steadfast 
friendship before the war and further demon- 
strated it by appearing according to previous 
agreement, accompanied by women and children 
of the tribe, obviously a peace party, with gifts 
of choice game which he presented on board to 
the captain of the " Decatur." 

With half a hundred or more of his war- 
riors, his services were accepted by the governor 
and they applied themselves to the gruesome in- 
dustry of taking heads from the hostile ranks. 
Eighty dollars for a chief's head and twenty for 
a warrior's were the rewards offered. 

Lieut. Phelps, gratefully remembered by the 
settlers of Seattle, thus described his appearance 
at Olympia, after having invested some of his 
pay in " Boston ictas" (clothes) : "Pat Kanem 
was arrayed in citizen's garb, including congress 
gaiters, white kid gloves, and a white shirt with 
standing collar reaching half-way up his ears, 
and the whole finished off with a flaming red 
neck-tie." 

Pat Kanem died while yet young; he must 
have been regarded with affection by his people. 
Tears afterward when one of his tribe visited an 
old pioneer, he was given a photograph of Pat 
Kanem to look at; wondering at his silence the 

[373] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

family were struck by observing that be was gaz- 
ing intently on the pictured semblance of bis 
dead and gone chief tain, while great tears rolled 
unchecked down the bronze cheeks. What 
thoughts of past prosperity, the happy, roving 
life of the long ago and those who mingled in it, 
he may have had, we cannot tell. 

STUDAH. 

Studah, or Williams, was one of three sons 
of a very old Duwampsh chief, "Queaucton," 
who brought them to A. A. Denny asking that he 
give them " Boston" names. He complied by 
calling them Tecumseh, Keokuk and William. 

The following sketch was written by Rev. 
G. F. Whitworth, a well-known pioneer : 

" William, the chief of the surviving Indians 
of the Duwampsh tribe, died at the Indian camp 
on Cedar River on Wednesday, April 1. He was 
one of the few remaining Indians who were at all 
prominent in the early settlement of this coun- 
try, and is almost, if not actually, the last of those 
who were ever friendly to the whites. His father, 
who died about the time that the first white set- 
tlements were made in this country, was the prin- 
cipal or head chief of the Duwamish Indians. 
He left three sons, Tecumseh, Keokuk and Will- 
iam. All of whom are now dead. Tecumseh, pre- 
sumably the eldest son, succeeded his father, and 
was recognized as chief until he was deposed by 
Capt. (now Gen.) Dent, U. S. A., who acted 
under authority of the United States government 

[374] 



FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFS. 

in relation to the Indians, at that time. He had 
some characteristics which seemed to disqualify 
him for the office, while on the other hand Will- 
iam seemed pre-eminently fitted to fill the posi- 
tion, and was therefore chief and had been rec- 
ognized both by whites and Indians up to the 
time of his death. 

" At the time of the Indian war, he, like Se- 
attle and Curley, was a true friend of the whites. 
The night before Seattle was attacked there was 
a council of war held in the woods back of the 
town, and William attended that council, and his 
voice was heard for peace and against war. He 
was always friendly to the whites, and for nearly 
forty years he has been faithful in his friendship 
to E. W. Smithers, to whom I am indebted for 
much of the information contained in this article. 

" Those who knew William will remember 
that he was distinguished for natural dignity of 
manner. He was an earnest and sincere Cath- 
olic, was a thoroughly good Indian, greatly re- 
spected by his tribe, and having the confidence 
of those among the whites who knew him. Will- 
iam was an orator and quite eloquent in his own 
language. On one occasion shortly after Capt. 
Hill, U. S. A., came to the territory, some com- 
plaints had been made to the superintendent, 
which were afterwards learned to be unfounded, 
asking to have the Duwamish Indians removed 
from Black River to the reservation. Capt. Hill 
was sent to perform this service, and went with a 

[375] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

steamer to their camp, which was on Mr. Smith- 
er's farm, a little above the railroad bridge. The 
captain was accompanied by United States Agent 
Finkbonner, and on his arrival at the camp ad- 
dressed the Indians, through an interpreter, in- 
forming them of the nature of his errand, and 
directing them to gather their "ictas" without 
delay and go on board the steamer, to be at once 
conveyed to the reservation. William and his 
Indians listened respectfully to the captain, and 
when he had closed his remarks William made 
his reply. 

"His speech was about an hour in length, in 
which his eloquence was clearly exhibited. He 
replied that the father at Olympia or the Great 
Father at Washington City, had no right to re- 
move his tribe. They were peaceful, had done no 
wrong. They were under no obligation to the 
government, had received nothing at its hands, 
and had asked for nothing ; they had entered into 
no treaty ; their lands had been taken from them. 
This, however, was their home. He had been 
born on Cedar River, and there he intended to re- 
main, and there his bones should be laid. They 
were not willing to be removed. They could not 
be removed. He might bring the soldiers to take 
them, but when they should come he would not 
find them, for they would flee and hide them- 
selves in the " stick" (the woods) where the sol- 
diers could not find them. Capt. Hill found him- 
self in a dilemma, out of which he was extricated 

[376] 



FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFS. 

by Mr. Smithers, who convinced the captain that 
the complaints were unfounded, and that with 
two or three exceptions those who had signed the 
complaint and made the request did not reside in 
that neighborhood, but lived miles away. They 
were living on Mr. Smithers' land with his con- 
sent, and when he further guaranteed their good 
behavior, and Mrs. Smithers assured him that she 
had no fears and no grievance, but that when Mr. 
Smithers was away she considered them a pro- 
tection rather than otherwise, the captain con- 
cluded to return without them, and to report the 
facts as he found them. 

" William's last message was sent to Mr. 
Smithers a few days before he died, and was a 
request that he would see that he was laid to rest 
as befitted his rank, and not allow him to be 
buried like a seedy old vagrant, as many of the 
newcomers considered him to be. 

"It is hardly necessary for me to say that 
this request was faithfully complied with, and 
that on Friday, April 3, his remains were interred 
in the Indian burying ground near Renton. The 
funeral was a large one, Indians from far and 
near coming to render their last tribute of re- 
spect to his memory. 

"From the time of his birth until his death 
he had lived in the region of Cedar and Black 
Eivers, seventy-nine years. 

"His successor as chief will be his nephew, 
Rogers, who is a son of Tecumseh." 

13a- [3TP 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

"angeline." 

Kakiisilma, called Angeline by the white 
settlers, about whom so much has been written, 
was a daughter of Sealth. 

In an interview, some interesting facts were 
elicited. 

Angeline saw white people first at Nesqually, 
"King George" people, the Indians called the 
Hudson Bay Company's agents and followers. 

She saw the brothers of Pat Kanem arrested 
for the killing of Wallace; she said that Sealth 
thought it was right that the two Snoqualmies 
were executed. 

When a little girl she wore deerskin robes 
or long coats and a collar of shells ; in those days 
her tribe made three kinds of robes, some of 
i ' suwella, Vii shulth ' ' or mountain beaver fur, and 
of deerskins; the third was possibly woven, as 
they made blankets of mountain sheep's wool and 
goat's hair. 

Angeline was first married to a big chief of 
the Skagits, Dokubkun by name ; her second hus- 
band was Talisha, a Duwampsh chief. She was 
d widow of about forty-five when Americans set- 
tled on Elliott Bay. Two daughters, Chewatum 
or Betsy and Mamie, were her only children 
known to the white people, and both married 
white men. Betsy committed suicide by hanging 
herself in the shed room of a house on Com- 
mercial Street, tying herself to a rafter by a 
red bandanna handkerchief. Betsy left an in- 

[378] 



FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFS. 

f ant son, since grown up, who lived with Angeline 
many years. Mary or Mamie married Wm. De- 
Shaw and has been dead for some time. 

It has been said that some are born great, 
some achieve greatness, while others have great- 
ness thrust upon them. Of the last described 
class, Angeline was a shining representative. 
Souvenir spoons, photographs, and cups bearing 
her likeness have doubtless traveled over a con- 
siderable portion of the civilized world, all of 
the notoriety arising therefrom certainly being 
unsought by the poor old Indian woman. 

Newspaper reporters, paragraphers, and 
magazine writers have never wearied of limning 
her life, recounting even the smallest incidents 
and making of her a conspicuous figure in the 
literature of the Northwest. 

It quite naturally follows that some absurd 
things have been written, some heartless, others 
pathetic and of real literary value, although it 
has been difficult for the tenderfoot to avoid er- 
rors. Upon the event of her death, which oc- 
curred on Sunday, May 31st, 1896, a leading pa- 
per published an editorial in which a brief out- 
line of the building of the city witnessed by An- 
geline was given and is here inserted : 

" Angeline, as she had been named by the 
early settlers, had seen many wonders. Born on 
the lonely shores of an unknown country, reared 
in the primeval forest, she saw all the progress of 
modern civilization. She saw the first cabin of 

[379] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

the pioneer; the struggles for existence on the 
part of the white man with nature ; the hewing of 
the log, then the work of the sawmill, the revolt 
of the aboriginal inhabitants against the intruder 
and the subjugation of the inferior race; the 
growth from one hut to a village ; from village to 
town ; the swelling population with its concomi- 
tants of stores, ships and collateral industries ; 
the platting of a town ; the organization of gov- 
ernment ; the accumulation of commerce ; the ad- 
vent of railroads and locomotives ; of steamships 
and great engines of maritime warfare ; the de- 
struction of a town by fire and the marvelous en- 
ergy which built upon its site, a city. Where 
there had been a handful of shacks she saw a 
city of sixty thousand people ; in place of a few 
canoes she saw a great fleet of vessels, stern- 
wheelers, side-wheelers, propellers, whalebacks, 
the Charleston and Monterey. She saw the 
streets lighted by electricity ; saw the telephone, 
elevators and many other wonders. 

****** 

" Death came to her as it does to all; but it 
came as the precursor of extinction, it adds an- 
other link in the chain which exemplifies the 
survival of the fittest." 

These comments are coldly judicial and ex- 
actly after the mind of the unsympathetic ten- 
derfoot or the "hard case" of early days. In 
speaking of the "survival of the fittest" and the 
"subjugation of the inferior race" a contrast is 

£380] 



FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFS. 

drawn flattering to the white race, but any men- 
tion of the incalculable injury, outrages, indig- 
nities and villainies practiced upon the native in- 
habitants by evil white men is carefully avoided. 
Angeline "saw" a good many other things not 
mentioned in the above eulogy upon civilization. 
She saw the wreck wrought by the white man's 
drink; the Indians never made a fermented 
liquor of their own. 

Angeline said that her father, Sealth, once 
owned all the land on which Seattle is built, that 
he was friendly to the white people and wanted 
them to have the land ; that she was glad to see 
fine buildings, stores and such like, but not the 
saloons; she did not like it at all that the white 
people built saloons and Joe, her grandson, would 
go to them and get drunk and then they made her 
pay five dollars to get him out of jail ! 

However, I will not dwell here on the dark 
side of the poor Indians' history, I turn there- 
fore to more pleasant reminiscence. 

Ankuti (a great while ago) when the days 
were long and happy, in the time of wild black- 
berries, two pioneer women with their children, 
of whom the writer was one, embarked with An- 
geline and Mamie in a canoe, under the old laurel 
(madrona) tree and paddled down Elliott Bay 
to a fine blackberry patch on W. N. Bell's claim. 

After wandering about a long while they 
sat down to rest on mossy logs beside the trail. 
They sat facing the water, the day was waning, 

[381] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

and as they thought of their return one of them 
said, "O look at the canoe!" It was far out on 
the shining water ; the tide had come up while the 
party wandered in the woods and the canoe, with 
its stake, was quite a distance from the bank. 
Mamie ran down the trail to the beach, took off 
her moccasins and swam out to the canoe, her 
mother and the rest intently watching her. Then 
she dived down to the bottom ; as her round, black 
head disappeared beneath the rippling surface, 
Angeline said "Now she's gone." But in a few 
moments we breathed a sigh of relief as up she 
rose, having pulled up the stake, and climbed into 
the canoe, although how she did it one cannot tell, 
and paddled to the shore to take in the happy 
crew. This little incident, but more especially 
the scene, the forms and faces of my friends, the 
dark forest, moss-cushioned seats under drooping 
branches, and the graceful canoe afloat on the 
silvery water — and it did seem for a few, long 
moments that Mamie was gone as Angeline said 
in her anxiety for her child's safety showing she 
too was a human mother — all this has never left 
my memory ! 

Angeline lived for many years in her little 
shanty near the water front, assisted often with 
food and clothing from kindly white friends. She 
had a determination to live, die and be buried in 
Seattle, as it was her home, and that, too, near her 
old pioneer friends, thus typifying one of the 
dearest wishes of the Indians. 

[.382] 



FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFS. 

She was one of the good Indian washerwom- 
en, gratefully remembered by pioneer house- 
wives. These faithful servitors took on them 
much toil, wearing and wearisome, now accom- 
plished by machinery or Chinese. 

The world is still deceived by the external 
appearance ; but even the toad "ugly and venom- 
ous" was credited with a jewel in its head. 

Now Angeline was ugly and untidy, and all 
that, but not as soulless as some who relegated 
her to the lowest class of living creatures. 

A white friend whom she often visited, Mrs. 
Sarah Kellogg, said to the writer, " Angeline 
lived up to the light she had ; she was honest and 
would never take anything that was offered her 
unless she needed it. I always made her some lit- 
tle present, saying, ' Well, Angeline, what do you 
want? Some sugar?' 'No, I have plenty of 
sugar, I would like a little tea. ' So it was with 
anything else mentioned, if she was supplied she 
said so. I had not seen her for quite a while at 
one time, and hearing she was sick sent my hus- 
band to the door of her shack to inquire after 
her. Sure enough she lay in her bunk unable to 
rise. When asked if she wanted anything to 
eat, she replied, 'No, I have plenty of mucx- 
amuck ; Arthur Denny sent me a box full, but I 
want some candles and matches.' 

"She told me that she was getting old and 
might die any time and that she never went to 
bed without saying her prayers. 

[383] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 



.. 



During a long illness she came to my house 
quite often, but was sent away by those in charge ; 
when I was at last able to sit up, I saw her ap- 
proaching the house and went down to the kitchen 
to be ready to receive her. As usual I inquired 
after her wants, when she somewhat indignantly 
asked, i Don't you supose I can come to see you 
without wanting something % ' 

"One day as she sat in my kitchen a young 
white girl asked before her, in English, of course, 
6 Does Angeline know anything about God ? ' She 
said quickly in Chinook, ' You tell that girl that I 
know God sees me all the time ; I might lie or steal 
and you would never find it out, but God would 
see me doit.' " 

In her old age she exerted herself, even when 
feeble from sickness, to walk long distances in 
quest of food and other necessities, stumping 
along with her cane and sitting down now and 
then on a doorstep to rest. 

All the trades-people knew her and were gen- 
erally kind to her. 

At last she succumbed to an attack of lung 
trouble and passed away. Having declared her- 
self a Roman Catholic, she was honorably buried 
from the church in Seattle, Rev. F. X. Prefon- 
taine officiating, while several of the old pioneers 
were pall-bearers. 

A canoe-shaped coffin had been prepared on 
which lay a cross of native rhododendrons and a 
cluster of snowballs, likely from an old garden. 

[384] 



FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFS. 

A great concourse of people were present, many 
out of curiosity, no doubt, while some were there 
with real feeling and solemn thought. Her old 
friend, Mrs. Maynard, stood at the head of the 
grave and dropped in a sprig of cedar. She spoke 
some encouraging words to Joe Foster, Betsy's 
son, and Angeline 's sole mourner, advising him 
to live a good life. 

And so Angeline was buried according to 
her wish, in the burying ground of the old pio- 
neers. 

YUTESTID. 

After extending numerous invitations, I was 
pleasantly surprised upon my return to my home 
one day to find Mr. and Mrs. Yutestid awaiting 
an interview. 

In the first place this Indian name is pro- 
nounced Yutestid and he is the only survivor (in 
1898) of Chief Sealth's once numerous house- 
hold. His mother was doubtless a captive, a 
Cowichan of British Columbia; his father, a 
Puget Sound Indian from the vicinity of Olym- 
pia. He was quite old, he does not know how old, 
but not decrepit ; Angeline said they grew up to- 
gether. 

He is thin and wiry looking, with some strag- 
gling bristles for a beard and thick short hair, 
still quite black, covering a head which looks as 
if it had been flattened directly on top as well as 
back and front as they were wont to do. This 
peculiar cranial development does not affect his 

[385] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

intelligence, however, as we have before ob- 
served in others ; he is quick-witted and knows a 
great many things. Yutestid says he can speak 
all the leading dialects of the Upper Sound, Sol- 
jampsh, Nesqually, Puyallup, Snoqualmie, Du- 
wampsh, Snohomish, but not the Sklallam and 
others north toward Vancouver. 

Several incidents related in this volume were 
mentioned and he remembered them perfectly, 
referred to the naming of "New York" on Alki 
Point and the earliest settlement, repeating the 
names of the pioneers. The murder at Bean's 
Point was committed by two Soljampsh Indians, 
he said, and they were tried and punished by an 
Indian court. 

He remembers the hanging of Pat Kanem's 
brothers, Kussass and Quallawowit. 

"Long ago, the Indians fight, fight, fight," 
he said, but he declared he had never heard of 
the Duwampsh campaign attributed to Sealth. 

Yutestid was not at the battle of Seattle but 
at Oleman House with Sealth 's tribe and others 
whom Gov. Stevens had ordered there. He 
chuckled as he said "The bad Indians came into 
the woods near town and the man-of-war (De- 
catur) mamoked pooh (shot) at them and they 
were frightened and ran away." 

Lachuse, the Indian who was shot near Sen- 
eca Street, Seattle, he remembered, and when I 
told him how the Indian doctor extracted the 
buckshot from the wounds he sententiously re- 

[386] 



FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFS. 

marked, "Well, sometimes the Indian doctors 
did very well, sometimes they were old humbugs, 
just the same as white people." 

Oleman House was built long before he was 
born, according to his testimony, and was 
adorned by a carved wooden figure, over the en- 
trance, of the great thunder bird, which per- 
formed the office of a lightning rod or at least 
prevented thunder bolts from striking the build- 
ing. 

When asked what the medium of exchange 
was "ankuti" (long ago), he measured on the 
index finger the length of pieces of abalone shell 
formerly used for money. 

In those days he saw the old women make 
feather robes of duck-skins, also of deer-skins 
and dog-skins with the hair on; they made bead 
work, too; beaded moccasins called "Yachit" 

The old time ways were very slow; he de- 
scribed the cutting of a huge cedar for a canoe as 
taking a long time to do, by hacking around it 
with a stone hammer and "chisel." 

Before the advent of the whites, mats served 
as sails. 

I told him of having seen the public part of 
Black Tamanuse and they both laughed at the 
heathenism of long ago and said, "We don't have 
that now." 

Yutestid denied that Ms people ate dog when 
making black tamanuse, but said the Sklallams 
did so. 

[387] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

"If I could speak better English or you bet- 
ter Chinook I could tell you lots of stories," he 
averred. Chinook is so very meager, however, 
that an interpreter of the native tongue will be 
necessary to get these stories. 

They politely shook hands and bade me 
"Good-bye" to jog off through the rain to their 
camping place, Indian file, he following in the 
rear contentedly smoking a pipe. Yutestid is in- 
dustrious, cultivating a patch of ground and 
yearly visiting the city of Seattle with fruit to 
sell. ' 

THE CHIEF'S KEPLY. 

Yonder sky through ages weeping 

Tender tears o'er sire and son, 

O'er the dead in grave-banks sleeping, 

Dead and living loved as one, 

May turn cruel, harsh and brazen, 

Burn as with a tropic sun, 

But my words are true and changeless, 

Changeless as the season's run. 

Waving grass-blades of wide prairie 

Shuttled by lithe foxes wary, 

As the eagle sees afar, 

So the pale-face people are; 

Like the lonely scattering pine-trees 

On a bleak and stormy shore, 

Few my brother warriors linger 

Faint and failing evermore. 

Well I know you could command us 
To give o'er the land we love, 

[388] 



FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFS. 

With your warriors well withstand us 
And ne'er weep our graves above. 
See on Whulch the South wind blowing 
And the waves are running free! 
Once my people they were many 
Like the waves of Whulch 's sea. 

When our young men rise in anger, 
Gather in a war-bent band, 
Face black-painted and the musket 
In the fierce, relentless hand, 
Old men pleading, plead in vain, 
Their dark spirits none restrain. 

If to you our land we barter, 
This we ask ere set of sun, 
To the graves of our forefathers, 
Till our days on earth are done, 
We may wander as our hearts are 
Wandering till our race is run. 

Speak the hillsides and the waters, 
Speak the valleys, plains and groves, 
Waving trees and snow-robed mountains, 
Speak to him where'er he roves, 
To the red men's sons and daughters 
Of their joys, their woes and loves. 

By the shore the rocks are ringing 
That to you seem wholly dumb, 
Ever with the waves are singing, 
Winds with songs forever come; 
Songs of sorrow for the partings 
Death and time make as of yore, 
Songs of war and peace and valor, 
Red men sang on Whulch 's shore. 

[389] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

See ! the ashes of our fathers, 
Mingling dust beneath our feet, 
Common earth to you, the strangers, 
Thrills us with a longing sweet. 
Fills our pulses rythmic beat. 
At the midnight in your cities 
Empty seeming, silent streets 
Shall be peopled with the hosts 
Of returning warriors' ghosts. 
Tho ' I shall sink into the dust, 
My warning heed ; be kind, be just, 
Or ghosts shall menace and avenge. 



[390] 



PART III. 

INDIAN LIFE AND SETTLERS' BEGIN- 
NINGS. 



CHAPTER I. 



SAVAGE DEEDS OF SAVAGE MEN. 

At Bean's Point, opposite AM on Puget 
Sound, an Indian murdered, at night, a family 
of Indians who were camping there. 

The Puyallups and Duwampsh came to- 
gether in council at Bean's Point, held a trial 
and condemned and executed the murderer. Old 
Duwampsh Curley was among the members of 
this native court and likely Sealth and his coun- 
sellors. 

One of the family escaped by wading out into 
the water where he might have become very cool, 
if not entirely cold, if it had not been that Cap- 
tain Fay and George Martin, a Swedish sailor, 
were passing by in their boat and the Indian 
begged to be taken in, a request they readily 
granted and landed him in a place of safety. 

Again at Bean's Point an Indian was shot 
by a white man, a Scandinavian ; the charge was 
a liberal one of buckshot. 

Some white men who went to inquire into the 

[391] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

matter followed the Indian's trail, finding ample 
evidence that lie had climbed the hill back of the 
house, where he may have been employed to work, 
and weak from his wounds had sat down on a log 
and then went back to the water; but his body 
was never found. It was supposed that the mur- 
derer enticed him back again and when he was 
dead, weighted and sunk him in the deep, cold 
waters of the Sound. 

At one time there was quite a large camp of 
Indians where now runs Seneca Street, Seattle, 
near which was my home. It was my father's 
custom to hire the Indians to perform various 
kinds of hard labor, such as grubbing stumps, 
digging ditches, cutting wood, etc. For a while 
we employed a tall, strong, fine-looking Indian 
called Lachuse to cut wood ; through a long sum- 
mer day he industriously plied the ax and late in 
the twilight went down to a pool of water, near 
an old bridge, to bathe. As he passed by a clump 
of bushes, suddenly the flash and report of a gun 
shattered the still air and Lachuse fell heavily 
to the ground with his broad chest riddled with 
buckshot. 

There was great excitement in the camp, run- 
ning and crying of the women and debate by the 
men, who soon carried him into the large Indian 
house. He was laid down in the middle of the 
room and the medicine man, finding him alive, 
proceeded to suck the wounds while the taman- 
use noise went on. 

[392] 



SAVAGE DEEDS OP SAVAGE MEN. 

A distracted, grey-haired lum-e-i, his moth- 
er, came to our house to beg for a keeler of water, 
all the time crying, "Mame-loose Lachuse! Ach- 
ada!" 

Two of the little girls of our family, sleep- 
ing in an old-fashioned trundle bed, were so 
frightened at the commotion that they pulled the 
covers up over their heads so far that their feet 
protuded below. 

The medicine man's treatment seems to have 
been effective, aided by the tamanuse music, as 
Lachuse finally recovered. 

The revengeful deed was committed by a 
Port Washington Indian, in retaliation for the 
stealing of his "klootchman" (wife) by an In- 
dian of the Duwampsh tribe, although it was not 
Lachuse, this sort of revenge being in accord- 
ance with their heathen custom. 

"Jim Keokuk," an Indian, killed another 
Indian in the marsh near the gas works; he 
struck him on the head with a stone. Jim worked 
as deck hand on a steamer for a time, but he in 
turn was finally murdered by other Indians, 
wrapped with chains and thrown overboard, 
which was afterward revealed by some of the 
tribe. 

There were many cases of retaliation, but the 
Indians were fairly peaceable until degraded by 
drink. 

The beginning of hostilities against the white 
people on the Sound, by some historians is said 

[393] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

to have been the killing of Leander Wallace at 
old Fort Nesqually. One of them gives this ac- 
count : 

" Prior to the Whitman massacre, Owhi and 
Kamiakin, the great chiefs of the upper and 
lower Yakima nations, while on a visit to Fort 
Nesqually, had observed to Dr. Tolmie that the 
Hudson Bay Company's posts with their white 
employes were a great convenience to the natives, 
but the American immigration had excited alarm 
and was the constant theme of hostile conversa- 
tion among the interior tribes. The erection in 
1848, at Fort Nesqually, of a stockade and block- 
house had also been the subject of angry criticism 
by the visiting northern tribes. So insolent and 
defiant had been their conduct that upon one 
afternoon for over an hour the officers and men 
of the post had guns pointed through the loop- 
holes at a number of Skawhumpsh Indians, who, 
with their weapons ready for assault, had posted 
themselves under cover of adjacent stumps and 
trees. 

" Shortly before the shooting of Wallace, ru- 
mors had reached the fort that the Snoqualmies 
were coming in force to redress the alleged cruel 
treatment of Why-it, the Snoqualmie wife of the 
young Nesqually chief, Wyampch, a dissipated 
son of Lahalet. 

"Dr. Tolmie treated such a pretext as a mere 
cloak for a marauding expedition of the Sno- 
qualmies. 

[394] 



SAVAGE DEEDS OP SAVAGE MEN. 

" Sheep shearing had gathered numbers of 
extra hands, chiefly Snohomish, who were oc- 
cupying mat lodges close to the fort, besides un- 
employed stragglers and camp followers. 

"On Tuesday, May 1, 1849, about noon, num- 
bers of Indian women and children fled in great 
alarm from their lodges and sought refuge with- 
in the fort. A Snoqualmie war party, led by Pat 
Kanem, approached from the southwestern end 
of the American plains. Dr. Tolmie having 
posted a party of Kanakas in the northwest 
bastion went out to meet them. 

"Tolmie induced Pat Kanem to return with 
him to the fort, closing the gate after their en- 
trance." 

The following is said to be the account given 
by the Hudson Bay Company's officials: 

"The gate nearest the mat lodges was guard- 
ed by a white man and an Indian servant. While 
Dr. Tolmie was engaged in attending a patient, 
he heard a single shot fired, speedily followed 
by two or three others. He hastily rushed to the 
bastion, whence a volley was being discharged 
at a number of retreating Indians who had made 
a stand and found cover behind the sheep wash- 
ing dam of Segualitschu Creek. Through a loop- 
hole the bodies of an Indian and a white man 
were discernible at a few yards distance from 
the north gate where the firing had commenced. 

"He hastened thither and found Wallace 
breathing his last, with a full charge of buc&« 

! 395' 1 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

shot in his stomach. The dying man was imme- 
diately carried inside of the fort. 

"The dead Indian was a young Ska- 
whunipsh, who had accompanied the Snoqual- 
mies. 

' ' The Snohomish workers, as also the strag- 
glers, had been, with the newly arrived Snoqual- 
mies, in and out of the abandoned lodges, chat- 
ting and exchanging news. A thoughtless act 
of the Indian sentry posted at the water gate, 
in firing into the air, had occasioned a general 
rush of the Snohomish, who had been cool ob- 
servers of all that had passed outside. 

" Walter Eoss, the clerk, came to the gate 
armed, and seeing Kussass, a SnoqualmLe, point- 
ing his gun at him, fired but missed him. Kussass 
then fired at Wallace. Lewis, an American, had 
a narrow escape, one ball passing through his 
vest and trousers and another grazing his left 
arm. 

" Quallawowit, as soon as the firing began, 
shot through the pickets and wounded Tziass, 
an Indian, in the muscles of his shoulder, which 
soon after occasioned his death. 

"The Snoqualmies as they retreated to the 
beach killed two Indian ponies and then hastily 
departed in their canoes. 

"At the commencement of the shooting, Pat 
Kanem, guided by Wyampch, escaped from the 
fort, a fortunate occurrence, as, upon his re- 
joining his party the retreat at once began. 

[396] 



SAVAGE DEEDS OF SAVAGE MEN". 

"When Dr. Tolmie stooped to raise Wal- 
lace, and the Snoqualmies levelled their guns to 
kill that old and revered friend, an Indian called 
"the Priest" pushed aside the guns, exclaiming 
"Enough mischief has already been done." 

The four Indians of the Snoqualmie party 
whose names were given by Snohomish inform- 
ers to Dr. Tolmie, together with Kussass and 
Quallawowit, were afterward tried for the mur- 
der of Wallace. " 

Their names were Whyik, Quallawowit, 
Kussass, Stahowie, Tatetum and Quilthlimkyne ; 
the last mentioned was a Duwampsh. 

Eighty blankets were offered for the giving 
up of these Indians. 

The Snoqualmies came to Steilacoom, where 
they were to be tried, in war paint and parade. 

The officials came from far; down the Co- 
lumbia; up the Cowlitz, and across to Puget 
Sound, about two hundred miles in primitive 
style, by canoe, oxcart or cayuse. 

The trial occupied two days; on the third 
day, the two condemned, Kussass and Quallaw- 
owit, were executed. 

One shot Wallace, two Indians were hung; 
Leschi, a leader in the subsequent war of 1855, 
looked on and went away resenting the injustice 
of taking two lives for one. Other Indians no 
doubt felt the same, thus preparing the way for 
their deadly opposition to the white race. 

It certainly seems likely that the "pretext" 

[.397] 






BLAZING THE WAY. 

of the Snoqualmies was a valid one as Wyampch, 
the young Nesqually chief, was a drunkard, and 
Why-it, his Snoqualmie wife, was no doubt 
treated much as Indian wives generally in such 
a case, frequently beaten and kicked into insen- 
sibility. 

The Snoqualmies had been quarreling with 
the Nesquallies before this and it is extremely 
probable that, as was currently reported among 
old settlers, the trouble was among the Indians 
themselves. 

There are two stories also concerning Wal- 
lace ; first, that he was outside quietly looking on, 
which he ought to have known better than to do ; 
second, that he was warned not to go outside but 
persisted in going, boasting that he could settle 
the difficulty with a club, paying for his temer- 
ity with his life. 

A well known historian has said that the 
" different tribes had been successfully treated 
with, but the Indians had acted treacherously 
inasmuch as it was well known that they had 
long been plotting against the white race to 
destroy it. This being true and they having en- 
tered upon a war without cause, however, he 
(Gov. Stevens) might sympathize with the rest- 
lessness of an inferior race who perceived that 
destiny was against them, he nevertheless had 
high duties toward his own." 

Now all this was true, yet there were other 
things equally true. Not all the treachery, not 

[398] 



SAVAGE DEEDS OP SAVAGE MEN. 

all the revenge, not all the cruelty were on the 
side of the " inferior" race. Even all the in- 
feriority was not on one side. The garbled trans- 
lation by white interpreters, the lying, deceit, 
nameless and numberless impositions by lawless 
white men must have aroused and fostered in- 
tense resentment. That there were white savages 
here we have ample proof. 

When Col. Wright received the conquered 
Spokane chiefs in council with some the pipe of 
peace was smoked. After it was over, Owhi pre- 
sented himself and was placed in irons for break- 
ing an agreement with Col. Wright, who bade 
him summon his son, Qualchin, on pain of death 
by hanging if his son refused to come. 

The next day Qualchin appeared not know- 
ing that the order had been given, and was seized 
and hung without trial. Evidently Kamiakin, 
the Yakima chief, had good reason to fear the 
white man's treachery when he refused to join 
in the council. 

The same historian before mentioned tells 
how Col. Wright called together the Walla Wal- 
las, informed them that he knew that they had 
taken part in recent battles and ordered those 
who had to stand up ; thirty-five promptly rose. 
Four of these were selected and hung. Now these 
Indians fought for home and country and vol- 
unteered to be put to death for the sake of their 
people, as it is thought by some, those hung for 
the murder of Whitman and his companions, did, 

[399] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

choosing to do so of their own free will, not hav- 
ing been the really guilty ones at all. 

Quiemuth, an Indian, after the war, emerged 
from his hiding place, went to a white man on 
Yelm prairie requesting the latter to accompany 
him to Olympia that he might give himself up for 
trial. Several persons went with him; reached 
Olympia after midnight, the governor placed him 
in his office, locking the door. It was soon known 
that the Indian was in the town and several white 
men got in at the back door of the building. The 
guard may have been drowsy or their movements 
very quiet; a shot was fired and Quiemuth and 
the others made a rush for the door where a 
white man named Joe Brannan stabbed the In- 
dian fatally, in revenge for the death of his 
brother who had been killed by Indians some 
time before. 

Three of the Indian leaders in Western 
Washington were assassinated by white men for 
revenge. Leschi, the most noted of the hostile 
chiefs on the Sound, was betrayed by two of his 
own people, some have said. 

I have good authority for saying that he 
gave himself up for fear of a similar fate. 

He was tried three times before he was fin- 
ally hung after having been kept in jail a long 
time. Evidently there were some obstructionists 
who agreed with the following just and truthful 
statement by Col. G. O. Haller, a well-known In- 

[400] 



SAVAGE DEEDS OF SAVAGE MEN. 

dian fighter, first published in the Seattle Post- 
Intelligencer : 

"The white man's aphorism 'The first blow 
is half the battle,' is no secret among Indians, 
and they practice it upon entering a war. In- 
deed, weak nations and Indian tribes, wrought to 
desperation by real or fancied grievances, inflict 
while able to do so horrible deeds when viewed b^ 
civilized and Christ-l,ike men. War is simply 
barbarism. And when was war refined and re- 
duced to rules and regulations that must control 
the Indian who fights for all that is dear to him 
— his native land and the graves of his sires — 
who finds the white man's donation claim spread 
over his long cultivated potato patch, his hog a 
trespasser on his old pasture ground and his old 
residence turned into a stable for stock, etc. ? 

"Leschi, like many citizens during the strug- 
gle for secession, appealed to his instincts — his 
attachment to his tribe — his desire, at the same 
time to conform to the requirements of the 
whites, which to many of his people were repul- 
sive and incompatible. He decided and struck 
heavy blows against us with his warriors. Since 
then we have learned a lesson. 

"Gen. Lee inflicted on the Union ^rmy heavy 
losses of life and destruction of property belong- 
ing to individuals. When he surrendered his 
sword agreeing to return to his home and become 
a law-abiding citizen, Gen. Grant protected him 
and his paroled army from the vengeance of men 

14- [401] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

who sought to make treason odious. This was in 
1866 and but the repetition of the Indian war of 
1856. 

"Col. Ceo. Wright, commanding the depart- 
ment of the Columbia, displayed such an over- 
whelming force in the Klickitat country that it 
convinced the hostile Indians of the hopelessness 
of pursuing war to a successful issue, and when 
they asked the terms of peace, Col. Wright di- 
rected them to return to their former homes, be 
peaceful and obey the orders of the Indian agents 
sent by our government to take charge of them, 
and they would be protected by the soldiers. 

"The crimes of war cannot be atoned by 
crimes in cold blood after the war. Two wrongs 
do not make a right. 

"Leschi, though shrewd and daring in war, 
adopted Col. Wright's directions, dropped hostil- 
ities, laid aside his rifle and repaired to Puget 
Sound, his home. 

"Like Lee, he was entitled to protection 
from the officers and soldiers. But Leschi, on the 
Sound, feared the enmity of the whites, and gave 
himself up to Dr. Tolmie, an old friend, at Nes- 
qually — not captured by two Indians of his own 
tribe and delivered up. Then began a crusade 
against Leschi for all the crimes of his people in 
war. 

"On the testimony of a perjured man, whose 
testimony was demonstrated, by a survey of the 
route claimed by the deponent, to be a falsehood, 

[402] 



SAVAGE DEEDS OF SAVAGE MEN. 

he was found guilty by the jury, not of the of- 
fense alleged against him, for it was physically 
impossible for Leschi to be at the two points in- 
dicated in the time alleged ; hence he was a mar- 
tyr to the vengeance of unforgiving white men. ' ' 

I remember having seen the beautiful pio- 
neer woman spoken of in the following account 
first published in a Seattle paper. The Castos 
were buried in the old burying ground in a corner 
next the road we traveled from our ranch to 
school. 

This is the article, head-lines and all : 
"John Bonser's Death Eecalls an Indian Mass- 
acre. 
Beautiful Abbie Casto's Fate. 
How Death Came Upon Three Pioneers of Squak 
Valley — Swift Vengeance on the 
Murderers. 

"The death of John Bonser, one of the ear- 
liest pioneers of Oregon, at Sauvie's Island, near 
Portland, recently, recalls one of the bloodiest 
tragedies that ever occurred in King County and 
one which will go down in history as the greatest 
example the pioneers had of the evil effect of giv- 
ing whisky to the Indians. The event is memor- 
able for another reason, and that is that the 
daughter of John Bonser, wife of William Casto, 
and probably the most beautiful woman in the 
territory, was a victim. 

" 'I don't take much stock in the handsome, 
charming women we read about,' said C. B. Bag- 

[403] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

ley yesterday, 'but Mrs. Casto, if placed in Seat- 
tle today with face and form as when she came 
among us in 1864, would be among the handsom- 
est women in the city, and I shall never forget 
the sensation created in our little settlement when 
messengers arrived from Squak valley, where 
the Castos moved, with the news that Mrs. Casto, 
her husband and John Holstead had been killed 
by Indians, and that a friendly Klickitat had 
slain the murderers. 

"The first impression was that there had 
been an uprising among the treacherous natives 
and a force, consisting of nearly all the able- 
bodied men in the community, started for the 
scene of the massacre. 

"It is a hard matter for the people of met- 
ropolitan Seattle to carry themselves back, fig- 
uratively speaking, to 1864, and imagine the vil- 
lage of that period with its thirty families. 

"The boundaries were limited to a short 
and narrow line extending along the water front 
not farther north than Pike Street. The few 
houses were small and unpretentious and the 
business portion of the town was confined to 
Commercial Street, between Main and Yesler 
Avenue. 

"At that time and even after the great fire 
in 1889, Yesler Avenue was known as Mill Street, 
the name having originated from the fact that 
Yesler 's mill was located at its foot. Where the 
magnificent Dexter Horton bank building now 

[404] 



SAVAGE DEEDS OP SAVAGE MEN. 

stands stood a small wooden structure occupied 
by Dexter Horton as a store, and where the Na- 
tional Bank of Commerce building, at the corner 
of Yesler Avenue and Commercial Street, stood 
the mill store of the Yesler-Denny Company. S. 
B. Hinds, a name forgotten in commercial circles, 
kept store on Commercial Street, between Wash- 
ington and Main Streets. Charles Plummer was 
at the corner of Main and Commercial, and J. E. 
Williamson was on the east side of Commercial 
Street, a half block north. This comprised the 
entire list of stores at that time. The forests 
were the only source to which the settlers looked 
for commercial commodities, and these, when put 
in salable shape, were often-times compelled to 
await means of transportation to markets. 
Briefly summed up, spars, piles, lumber and hop- 
poles were about all the sources of income. 

"At that time there was no "blue book," 
and, in fact women were scarce. It is not sur- 
prising then that the arrival of William Casto, 
a man aged 38 years and a true representative 
of the Kentucky colonel type, with his young 
wife, the daughter of John Bonser, of Sauvies 
Island, Columbia River, near Portland, should 
have been a memorable occasion. Mrs. Casto was 
a natural not an artificial beauty — one of those 
women to whom all apparel adapts itself and be- 
comes a part of the wearer. Every movement 
was graceful and her face one that an artist 
would have raved about — not that dark, imper- 

[405] 



BLAZING THE WAT. 

ious beauty that some might expect, but the exact 
opposite. Her eyes were large, blue and expres- 
sive, while her complexion, clear as alabaster, 
was rendered more attractive by a rosy hue. She 
was admired by all and fairly worshipped by her 
husband. It was one of those rare cases where 
disparity in ages did not prevent mutual devo- 
tion. 

"In the spring of the year that Casto came 
to Seattle he took up a ranch in the heart of 
Squak valley, where the Tibbetts farm now lies. 
Here he built a small house, put in a garden and 
commenced clearing. In order to create an in- 
come for himself and wife he opened a small trad- 
ing post and carried on the manufacture of hoop 
poles. The valley was peculiarly adapted to this 
business, owing to the dense growth of hazel 
bush, the very article most desired. 

" ' Casto did most of his trading with San 
Francisco merchants and frequently received as 
much as $1,500 for a single shipment. Such a 
business might be laughed at in 1893, but at that 
time it meant a great deal to a sparsely settled 
community where wealth was largely prospec- 
tive. It is a notable fact that, even in the early 
days when North Seattle was a howling wilder- 
ness and large game ran wild between the town 
limits and Lake Washington, the advantages of 
that body of water were appreciated and a suc- 
cessful effort was made by Henry L. Yesler, L. 
V. Wyckoff and others to connect the one with 

[406] 






SAVAGE DEEDS OF SAVAGE MEN. 

the other by a wagon road. The lake terminus 
was at a point called Fleaburg, now known as 
the terminus of the Madison Street cable line. 
Fleaburg was a small Indian settlement, and ac- 
cording to tradition derived its name from in- 
numerable insects that made life miserable for 
the inhabitants and visitors. The many miles of 
travel this cut saved was greatly appreciated by 
the Squak settlers, because it was not only to 
their advantage in a commercial sense, but also 
made them feel that they were much nearer to 
the mother settlement. Another short cut was 
made by means of a foot path starting from Coal 
Creek on the eastern shore of the lake. This was 
so rough that only persons well acquainted with 
the country would have taken advantage of it. 
While it was not practical, yet it furnished means 
of reaching the settlement, in case of necessity, 
in one day, whereas the water route took twice 
as long. 

" 'Even at that time the great fear of the set- 
tlers, who were few in number, was the Indians. 
If a young man in Seattle went hunting hi§ 
mother cautioned him to "be very careful of the 
Indians." Many people now living in or about 
the city will remember that in the fall of 1864 
there were fears of an Indian uprising. How the 
rumors started or on what they were founded 
would be hard to state, nevertheless the fact re- 
mains that there was a general feeling of uneasi- 
ness. During the summer there had been trouble 

[407] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

on the Snohomish River between white men and 
members of the Snohomish tribe. Three of the 
latter were killed, and among them a chief. 
These facts alone would have led a person well 
versed in the characteristics of the Washington 
Indian to look for trouble of some kind, although 
to judge from what direction and in what man- 
ner would have been difficult. 

" ' Casto at that time had several of the Sno- 
homish Indians working for him, but the thought 
of fear never entered his mind. He had great 
influence over his workmen and was looked up 
to by them as a sort of white "tyee" or chief. 
Any one that knew Casto could not but like him, 
he was so free-hearted, kind and considerate of 
every person he met, whether as a friend and 
equal or as his servant. He had one fault, how- 
ever, which goes hand in hand the world over 
with a free heart — he loved liquor and now and 
then drank too much. He also got in the habit 
of giving it to the Indians in his employ. On 
several occasions the true Indian nature, under 
the influence of stimulants, came out, and it re- 
quired all his authority to avoid bloodshed. His 
neighbors, who could be numbered on the fingers 
of both hands, with some to spare, cautioned 
him not to give "a redskin whisky and arouse 
the devil," but he laughed at them, and when 
they warned him of treachery, thought they 
spoke nonsense. He would not believe that the 
men whom he treated so kindly and befriended 

[408] 



SAVAGE DEEDS OF SAVAGE MEN. 

in every conceivable manner would do him harm 
under any conditions. He reasoned that his 
neighbors did not judge the character of the na- 
tive correctly and underestimated his influence. 
There was no reason why he should not give his 
Indians liquor if he so desired. 

" 'He acted on this decision on the after- 
noon of November 7, 1864, and then went to his 
home for supper. The Indians got gloriously 
drunk and then commenced to thirst for blood. 
In the crowd were two of the Snohomish tribe, 
bloodthirsty brutes, and still seeking revenge for 
the death of their tribesmen and chief on the 
Snohomish river the summer previous. Their 
resolve was made. Casto 's life would atone for 
that of the chief, his wife and friend, John Hol- 
stead, for the other two. They secretly took 
their guns and went to Casto 's house. The cur- 
tain of the room wherein all three were seated 
at the supper table was up, and the breast of 
Casto was in plain view of the assassins. There 
was no hesitation on the part of the Indians. 
The first shot crashed through the window and 
pierced Casto in a vital spot. He arose to his 
feet, staggered and fell upon a lounge. His wife 
sprang to his assistance, but the rifle spoke again 
and she fell to the floor. The third shot hit Hol- 
stead, but not fatally, and the Indians, deter- 
mined to complete their bloody work, ran to the 
front door. They were met by Holstead, who 
fought like a demon, but at length fell, his body 

ha- [409] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

stabbed in more than twenty places. Not con- 
tent with the slaughter already done, the blood- 
thirsty wretches drove their knives into the body 
of Casto's beautiful wife in a manner most in- 
human. Having finished their bloody work of 
revenge they left the house, never for a moment 
thinking their lives were in danger. In this 
particular they made a fatal error. 

"The shots fired had attracted a Klickitat 
Indian named Aleck to the scene. As fate had 
it, he was a true friend to the white man and 
held Casto, his employer, in high regard. It 
took him but a brief period to comprehend the 
situation, and he determined to avenge the death 
of his master, wife and friend. He concealed 
himself, and when the bloody brutes came out 
of the house he crept up behind them. One shot 
was enough to end the earthly career of one, 
but the other took to his heels. Aleck followed 
him with a hatchet he had drawn from his belt, 
and, being fleeter of foot, caught up. Then with 
one swift blow the skull of the fleeing Indian 
was cleft, and as he fell headlong to the ground 
Aleck jumped on him, and again and again the 
bloody hatchet drank blood until the head that 
but a few minutes before had human shape 
looked like a chipped pumpkin. 

"While this series of bloody deeds was 
being enacted the few neighbors became wild 
with alarm, and, thinking that an Indian war 
had broken out, started for Seattle immediately. 

[410] 



SAVAGE DEEDS OF SAVAGE MEN. 

The band was made up of a Mr. Bush and fam- 
ily and three or four single men who had ranches 
in the valley. 

They reached Seattle the morning of the 
9th and told the news, stating their fears of an 
Indian uprising. A party consisting of all the 
able-bodied men in the town immediately started 
for the scene of the tragedy by the short cut, and 
arrived there in the evening. The sight that met 
their eyes was horrible. In the bushes was found 
the body of the Indian who had been shot, and 
not far distant were the remains of the other, 
covered with blood and dirt mixed. In the house 
the sight was even more horrible. Holstead lay 
in the front room in a pool of clotted blood, his 
body literally punctured with knife wounds, and 
in the adjoining room, on a sofa, half reclining, 
was the body of Casto. On the floor, almost in 
the middle of the room, was Mrs. Casto, beauti- 
ful even in death, and lying in a pool of blood. 

The coroner at that time was Josiah Settle, 
and he, after looking around and investigating, 
found that the only witnesses he had were an old 
squaw, who claimed to have been an eye witness 
to the tragedy, and Aleck, the Klickitat. The 
inquest was held immediately, and the testimony 
agreed in substance with facts previously stated. 
The jury then returned the following verdict: 

i Territory of Washington, County of King, 
before Josiah Settle, Coroner. 

We, the undersigned jurors summoned to 
[411] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

appear before Josiah Settle, the coroner of King 
county, at Squak, on the 9th day of November, 
1864, to inquire into the cause of death of Wil- 
liam Casto, Abbie Casto and John Holstead, 
having been duly sworn according to law, and 
having made such inquisition after inspecting 
the bodies and hearing the testimony adduced, 
upon our oath each and all do say that we find 
that the deceased were named William Casto, 
Abbie Casto and John Holstead; that William 
Casto was a native of Kentuckv, Abbie Casto 
was formerly a resident of Sauvies Island, Co- 
lumbia county, Or., and John Holstead was a 
native of Wheeling, Va., and that they came to 
their deaths on the 7th of November, 1864, in 
this county, by knives and pistols in the hands 
of Indians, the bodies of the deceased having 
been found in the house of William Casto, at 
Squak, and we further find that we believe John 
Taylor and George, his brother, Indians of the 
Snoqualmie tribe, to have been the persons by 
whose hands they came to their deaths. ' 

The bodies were brought to Seattle and 
buried in what is now known as the Denny Park, 
then a cemetery, North Seattle. Since then they 
have been removed to the Masonic cemetery. 

The news of the murder was sent to John 
Bonser, in Oregon, and he came to the town at 
once. For several weeks after the event the 
columns of the Seattle Gazette were devoted in 
part to a discussion of the question of selling and 

[412] 



SAVAGE DEEDS OP SAVAGE MEN. 

giving liquor to the Indians, the general conclu- 
sion being that it was not only against the law 
but a dangerous practice. 

Out of the killing by Aleck of the two Sno- 
homish Indians grew a feud which resulted in 
the death of Aleck's son. The old man was the 
one wanted, but he was too quick with the rifle 
and they never got him. He died a few years 
ago, aged nearly ninety years." 

So we see that whisky caused the death of 
six persons in this case. 

The Lower Sound Indians were, if anything, 
more fierce and wild than those toward the south. 

George Martin, the Swedish sailor who ac- 
companied Capt. Fay, in 1851, said that he saw 
Sklallam Indians dancing a war dance at which 
there appeared the head of one of their enemies, 
which they had roasted ; small pieces of it were 
touched to their lips, but were not eaten. 

In an early day when Ira W. Utter lived 
on Salmon Bay, or more properly Shilshole Bay, 
he was much troubled by cougars killing his 
cattle, calves particularly. Thinking strychnine 
a good cure he put a dose in some lights of a beef, 
placed on a stick with the opposite end thrust in 
the ground. "Old Limpy," an Indian, spied the 
tempting morsel, took it to his home, roasted 
and ate the same and went to join his ancestors 
in the happy hunting grounds. 

This Indian received his name from a limp 
occasioned by a gunshot wound inflicted by Low- 

[413] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

er Sound Indians on one of their raids. He was 
just recovering when the white people settled 
on Elliott Bay. 

The very mention of these raids must have 
been terrifying to our Indians, as we called those 
who lived on the Upper Sound. On one occa- 
sion as a party of them were digging clams on 
the eastern shore of Admiralty Inlet, north of 
Meadow Point, they were attacked by their 
northern enemies, who shot two or three while 
the rest klatawaw-ed with all the hyak (hurry) 
possible and hid themselves. 



[414] 



CHAPTER II. 

PIONEEK JOKES AND ANECDOTES. 

In early days, the preachers came in for 
some rather severe criticisms, although the 
roughest of the frontiersmen had a genuine rev- 
erence for their calling. 

Ministers of the Gospel, as well as others, 
were obliged to turn the hand to toil with ax and 
saw. Now these tools require frequent recourse 
to sharpening processes and the minister with 
ax on shoulder, requesting the privilege of grind- 
ing that useful article on one of the few grind- 
stones in the settlement occasioned no surprise, 
but when he prepared to grind by putting the 
handle on " wrong side to," gave it a brisk turn 
and snapped it off short, the disgust of the owner 
found vent in the caustic comment, "Well, if 
you're such a blame fool as that, I'll neve'r go 
to hear you preach in the world!" 

James G. Swan tells of an amusing experi- 
ence with a Neah Bay Indian chief, in these 
words : 

"I had a lively time with old Kobetsi, the 
war chief, whose name was Kobetsi-bis, which 
in the Makah language means frost. I had been 
directed by Agent Webster to make a survey 
of the reservation as far south as the Tsoess 
river, where Kobetsi lived, and claimed exclu- 

[415] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

sive ownership to the cranberry meadows along 
the bank of that river. He was then at his sum- 
mer residence on Tatoosh Island. The Makah 
Indians had seen and understood something of 
the mariner's compass, but a surveyor's compass 
was a riddle to them. 

A slave of Kobetsi, who had seen me at work 
on the cranberry meadows, hurried to Tatoosh 
Island and reported that I was working a tama- 
nuse, or magic, by which I could collect all the 
cranberries in one pile, and that Peter had sold 
me the land. This enraged the old ruffian, and 
he came up to Neah Bay with sixteen braves, 
with their faces painted black, their long hair 
tied in a knot on top of their heads with spruce 
twigs, their regular war paint, and all whooping 
and yelling. The old fellow declared he would 
have my head. Peter and the others laughed at 
him, and I explained to him what I had been 
about. He was pacified with me, but on his re- 
turn to Tatoosh Island he shot the slave dead 
for making a fool of his chief." 

The same writer is responsible for this ac- 
count of a somewhat harsh practical joke; the 
time was November, 1859, the place Port Angeles 
Bay, in a log cabin where Captain Bufus Holmes 
resided : 

" Uncle Bufus had a chum, a jolly, fat 
butcher named Jones, who lived in Port Towns- 
end, and a great wag. He often visited Uncle 
Bufus for a few days' hunt and always took 

[416] 



PIONEER JOKES AND ANECDOTES. 

along some grub. On one occasion lie procured 
an eagle, which he boiled for two days and then 
managed to disjoint. When it was cold he care- 
fully wrapped the pieces in a cabbage leaf and 
took it to Uncle Ruf us as a wild swan, but some- 
what tough. The captain chopped it up with 
onions and savory herbs and made a fine soup, of 
which he partook heartily, Jones contenting him- 
self with some clam fritters and fried salmon, re- 
marking that it was his off day on soup. After 
dinner the wretched wag informed him that he 
had been eating an eagle, and produced the head 
and claws as proof. This piece of news operated 
on Uncle Ruf us like an emetic, and after he had 
earnestly expressed his gastronomic regrets, 
Jones asked with feigned anxiety, 'Did the soup 
make you sick, Uncle Ruf us?' 

"Not to be outdone, the captain made reply, 
'No, not the soup, but the thought I had been 
eating one of the emblems of my country.' " 

A young man of lively disposition and con- 
sequently popular, was the victim of an April 
fool joke in the "auld lang syne." Very fond 
he was of playing tricks on others but some of the 
hapless worms turned and planned a sweet and 
neat revenge, well knowing it was hard to get 
ahead of the shrewd and witty youth. A "two- 
bit" piece, which had likely adorned the neck or 
ear of an Indian belle, as it had a hole pierced 
in it, was nailed securely to the floor of the post- 
office in the village of Seattle, and a group of 

[417] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

loungers waited to see the result. Early on the 
first, the young man before indicated walked 
briskly and confidently in. Observing the coin 
he stooped airily and essayed to pick it up, re- 
marking, "It isn't everybody that can pick up 
two bits so early in the morning ! " " April Fool ! ' ' 
and howls of laughter greeted his failure to 
pocket the coin. With burning face he sheepish- 
ly called for his mail and hurried out with the 
derisive shout of "It isn't everybody that can 
pick up two bits so early in the morning, Ha ! ha ! 
ha!" ringing in his ears. 

Such fragments of early history as the fol- 
lowing are frequently afloat in the literature of 
the Sound country : 

"THEY VOTED THEMSELVES GTJNS. 

"How Pioneer Legislators Equipped Themselves 
to Fight the Indians. 

If the state legislature should vote to each 
member of both houses a first-class rifle, a sensa- 
tion indeed would be created. But few are aware 
that such a precedent has been established by a 
legislature of Washington Territory. It has been 
so long ago, though, that the incident has almost 
faded from memory, and there are but few of the 
members to relate the circumstances. 

"It was in 1855, when I was a member of the 
council, that we passed a law giving each legis- 
lator a rifle," said Hon. R. S. Eobinson, a wealthy 
old pioneer farmer living near Chimacum in Jef- 
ferson County, while going to Port Townsend 

[418] 



PIONEER JOKES AND ANECDOTES. 

the other night on the steamer Eosalie. Being in 
a reminiscent humor, he told about the exciting 
times the pioneers experienced in both dodging 
Indians and navigating the waters of Puget 
Sound in frail canoes. 

"It was just preceding the Indian outbreak 
of 1855-6, the settlers were apprehensive of a 
sudden onslaught," continued Mr. Robinson. 
"Gov. Stevens had secured from the war depart- 
ment several stands of small arms and ammuni- 
tion, which were intended for general distribu- 
tion, and we thought one feasible plan was to pro- 
vide each legislator with a rifle and ammunition. 
Many times since I have thought of the incident, 
and how ridiculous it would seem if our present 
legislature adopted our course as a precedent,, 
and armed each member at the state's expense. 
Things have changed considerably. In those 
days guns and ammunition were perquisites. 
Now it is stationery, lead pencils and waste 
baskets." 

Among other incidents related by a speaker 
whose subject was "Primitive Justice," was 
heard this story at a picnic of the pioneers : 

"An instance in which I was particularly 
interested being connected with the administra- 
tion of the sheriff's office occurred in what is now 
Shoshone County, Idaho, but was then a part of 
Washington Territory. A man was brought into 
the town charged with a crime; he was taken 
before the justice at once, but the trial was ad- 

[419] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

journed because the man was drunk. Tlie sheriff 
took the prisoner down the trail, but before he 
had gone far the man fell down in a drunken 
sleep. A wagon bed lay handy and this was 
turned over the man and weighted down wdth 
stones to prevent his escape. The next morning 
he was again brought before the justice, who, 
finding him guilty, sentenced him to thirty days 
confinement in the jail from whence he had come 
and to be fed on bread and water." 

No doubt this was a heavy punishment, es- 
pecially the water diet. 

An incident occurred in that historic build- 
ing, the Yesler cook house, never before pub- 
lished. 

A big, powerful man named Emmick, gen- 
erally known as " Calif orny," was engaged one 
morning in a game of fisticuffs of more or less 
seriousness, when Bill Carr, a small man, stepped 
up and struck Emmick, who was too busy with 
his opponent just then to pay any attention to 
the impertinent meddler. Nevertheless he bided 
his time, although "Bill" made himself quite 
scarce and was nowhere to be seen when "Cali- 
forny's" bulky form cast a shadow on the saw- 
dust. After a while, however, he grew more 
confident and returned to a favorite position in 
front of the fire in the old cook house. He was 
just comfortably settled when in came "Cali- 
forny," who pounced on him like a wildcat on a 
rabbit, stood him on his head and holding him by 

[420] 



PIONEER JOKES AND ANECDOTES. 

the heels " chucked" him up and down like a 
dasher on an old-fashioned churn, until Carr 
was much subdued, then left him to such reflec- 
tions as were possible to an all but cracked cran- 
ium. It is safe to say he did not soon again 
meddle with strife. 

This mode of punishment offers tempting 
possibilities in cases where the self-conceit of 
small people is offensively thrust upon their 
superiors. 

The village of Seattle crept up the hill from 
the shore of Elliott Bay, by the laborious remov- 
al of the heavy forest, cutting, burning and grub- 
bing of trees and stumps, grading and building of 
neat residences. 

In the clearing of a certain piece of property 
between Fourth and Fifth streets, on Columbia, 
Seattle, now in the heart of the city, three pio- 
neers participated in a somewhat unique exper- 
ience. One of them, the irrepressible "Gard" or 
Gardner Kellogg, now well known as the very 
popular chief of the fire department of Seattle, 
has often told the story, which runs somewhat 
like this : 

Mr. and Mrs. Gardner Kellogg were dining 
on a Sunday, with the latter 's sister and her hus- 
band, Mr. and Mrs. O. C. Shorey, as they often 
did, at their home on Third Avenue. It was a 
cold, drizzly day, but in spite of that "Gard" and 
Mr. Shorey walked out to the edge of the clear- 
ing, where the dense young fir trees still held the 

[421] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

ground, and the former was soon pushing up a 
stump fire on his lots. 

As he poked the fire a bright thought oc- 
curred to him and he observed to his companion 
that he believed it " would save a lot of hard 
work, digging out the roots, to bring up that old 
shell and put it under the stump." 

The "old shell" was one that had been 
thrown from the sloop-of-war "Decatur" during 
the Indian war, and had buried tself in the earth 
without exploding. In excavating for the Kel- 
logg 's wood house it had been unearthed. 

Mr. Shorey thought it might not be safe if 
some one should pass by: "O, nobody will come 
out this way this miserable day ; it may not go off 
anyway, ' ' was the answer. 

So the shell was brought up and they dug 
under the roots of the stump, put it in and re- 
turned to the Shorey residence. 

When they told what they had done, it was 
agreed that it was extremely unlikely that any- 
one would take a pleasure walk in that direction 
on so gloomy a day. 

Meanwhile a w r orthy citizen of the little 
burgh had gone roaming in search of his stray 
cow. As before stated, it was a chilly, damp 
day, and the man who was looking for his cow, 
Mr. Dexter Horton, for it was none other than 
he, seeing the fire, was moved to comfort himself 
with its genial warmth. 

He advanced toward it and spread his hands 

[422] 



PIONEER JOKES AND ANECDOTES. 

benignantly as though blessing the man that in- 
vented fire, rubbed his palms together in a mute 
ecstacy of mellow satisfaction and then reversed 
his position, lifted his coat-tails and set his feet 
wide apart, even as a man doth at his own peace- 
ful hearthstone. The radiant energy had not 
time to reach the marrow when a terrific explo- 
sion took place. It threw earth, roots and splin- 
ters, firebrands and coals, yards away, hurled the 
whilom fire-worshiper a considerable distance, 
cautioned him with a piece of hot iron that just 
missed his face, covered him with the debris, 
mystified and stupefied him, but fortunately did 
not inflict any permanent injury. 

As he recovered the use of his faculties the 
idea gained upon him that it was a mean, low- 
down trick anyhow to blow up stumps that way. 
He was very much disgusted and refused very 
naturally to see anything funny about it ; but as 
time passed by and he recovered from the shock, 
the ludicrous side appeared and he was content 
to let it be regarded as a pioneer pleasantry. 

The innocent perpetrator of this amazing 
joke has no doubt laughed long and loud many 
times as he has pictured to himself the vast as- 
tonishment of his fellow townsman, and tells the 
story often, with the keenest relish, to apprecia- 
tive listeners. 

Yes, to be blown up by an old bomb-shell on 
a quiet Sunday afternoon, while resting beside a 
benevolent looking stump-fire that not even re- 

[423] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

motely suggested war-like demonstrations, was 
rather tough. 

how bean's point was named. 

Opposite Alki Point was a fine prairie of 
about forty acres to which C. C. Terry at first laid 
claim. Some of the earliest settlers of the first 
mentioned locality crossed the water, taking their 
cattle, ploughed and planted potatoes on this 
prairie. Terry subsequently settled elsewhere 
and the place was settled on by a large man of 
about sixty years, a Nova Scotian, it was sup^ 
posed, who bore the name of Bean. This lonely 
settler was a sort of spiritualist ; in Port Decatur, 
while one of a group around a stove, he leaned his 
arm on the wall and when a natural tremor re- 
sulted, insisted that the " spirits" did it. After 
the war he returned to his cabin and while in his 
bed, probably asleep, was shot and killed by an 
Indian. Since then the place has been known 
as Bean's Point. 

Dr. H. A. Smith, the happiest story-teller 
of pioneer days, relates in his " Early Reminis- 
cences" how "Dick Atkins played the dickens 
with poor old Beaty 's appetite for cheese" in this 
engaging manner : 

"One day when he (Dick Atkin) was mer- 
chandising on Commercial Street, Seattle, as 
successor to Horton & Denny, he laid a piece of 
cheese on the stove to fry for his dinner. A 
dozen loafers were around the stove and among 
them Mr. Beaty, remarkable principally for his 

[424] 



PIONEER JOKES AND ANECDOTES. 

appetite, big feet and good nature. And lie onf 
this occasion good-naturedly took the cheese 
from the stove and cooled and swallowed it with- 
out waiting to say grace, while Dick was in the 
back room, waiting on a customer. When the 
cheese was fairly out of sight, Beaty grew uneasy 
and skedadled up the street. When Atkins re- 
turned and found his cheese missing, and was 
told what became of it, he rushed to the door 
just in time to catch sight of Beaty 's coat-tail 
going into Dr. Williamson's store. Without re- 
turning for his coat or hat, off he darted at full 
speed. Beaty had fairly got seated, when Dick 
stood before him and fairly screamed : 

" 'Did you eat that cheese?' 

" 'Wal — yes — but I didn't think you'd care 
much.' 

"'Care! Care! good thunder, no! but I 
thought you might care, as I had just put a 
DOUBLE DOSE OF ARSENIC in it to kill 
rats.' 

" 'Don't say!' exclaimed Beaty, jumping to 
his feet, 'thought it tasted mighty queer; what 
can I do?' 

" 'Come right along with me; there is only 
one thing that can save you.' 

"And down the street they flew as fast as 
their feet would carry them. As soon as they 
had arrived at the store, Atkins drew off a pint 
of rancid fish-oil and handed it to Beaty saying, 
' Swallow it quick ! Your life depends upon it ! ' 

[425] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

"Poor Beaty was too badly frightened to 
hesitate, and after a few gags, pauses and wry 
faces he handed back the cup, drained to the bit- 
ter dregs. * There now,' said Dick, 'go home and 
to bed, and if you are alive in the morning come 
around and report yourself. ' 

"After he was gone one of the spectators 
asked if the cheese was really poisoned. 

" 'No,' replied Dick, 'and I intended tell- 
ing the gormand it was not, but when I saw that 
look of gratitude come into his face as he handed 
back the empty cup, my heart failed me, and my 
revenge became my defeat.' 'No, gentlemen, 
Beaty is decidedly ahead in this little game. I 
never before was beaten at a game of cold bluff 
after having stacked the cards myself. I beg 
you to keep the matter quiet, gentlemen. ' But it 
was always hard for a dozen men to keep a 
secret." 

These same "Early Reminiscences" contain 
many a merry tale, some "thrice told" to the 
writer of this work, of the people who were fa- 
miliar figures on the streets of Seattle and other 
settlements, in the long ago, among them two of 
the Rev. J. F. DeVore, with whom I was ac- 
quainted. 

"When he lived in Steilacoom, at a time 

when that city was even smaller than it is now, 

a certain would-be bully declared, with an oath, 

that if it were not for the respect he had for the 

cloth,' he would let daylight through his portly 

[426] 



PIONEER JOKES AND ANECDOTES. 

ministerial carcass. Thereupon the ' cloth' was 
instantly stripped off and dashed upon the 
ground, accompanied with the remark, 'The 
" cloth' ' never stands in the way of a good cause. 
I am in a condition, now sir, to be enlightened.' 
But instead of attempting to shed any light into 
this luminary of the pulpit, whose eyes fairly 
blazed with a light not altogether of this world, 
the blustering bully lit out down the street at the 
top of his speed." 

The following has a perennial freshness, al- 
though I have heard it a number of times : 

"When Olympia was a struggling village 
and much in need of a church, this portly, in- 
dustrious man of many talents took upon him- 
self the not overly pleasant task of raising sub- 
scriptions for the enterprise, and in his rounds 
called on Mr. Crosby, owner of the sawmill at 
Tumwater, and asked how much lumber he would 
contribute to the church. Mr. Crosby eyed the 
' cloth' a moment and sarcastically replied, 'As 
much as you, sir, will raft and take away between 
this and sundown. ' ' Show me the pile ! ' was the 
unexpected rejoinder. Then laying off his coat 
and beaver tile he waded in with an alacrity that 
fairly made Mr. Crosby's hair bristle. All day, 
without stopping a moment, even for dinner, his 
tall, stalwart form bent under large loads of 
shingles, sheeting, siding, scantling, studding and 
lath, and even large sills and plates were rolled 
and tumbled into the bay with the agility of a 

[427] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

giant, and before sundown Mr. Crosby had the 
proud satisfaction of seeing the ' cloth' trium- 
phantly poling a raft toward Olympia containing 
lumber enough for a handsome church and a 
splendid parsonage besides. 

"Mr. Crosby was heard to say a few days 
afterward that no ten men in his employ could, 
or wrould, have done that day's work. Meeting 
the divine shortly afterwards, Mr. Crosby said, 
'Well, parson, you can handle more lumber be- 
tween sunrise and dark than any man I ever 
saw.' 

" 'Oh,' said the parson, 'I was working that 
day for my Maker. ' 

"Moral: Never trust pioneer preachers 
with your lumber pile, simply because they wear 
broadcloth coats, for most of them know how to 
take them off, and then they can work as well as 
pray." 

This conjuror with the pen has called up 
another well known personality of the earliest 
times in the following sketch and anecdote : 

"Dr. Maynard was of medium size. He had 
blue eyes, a square forehead, a strong face and 
straight black hair, when worn short, but when 
worn long, as it was when whitened by the snows 
of many winters, it was quite curly and fell in 
ringlets over his shoulders. Add to this descrip- 
tion, a long, gray beard, and you will see him 
as he appeared on our streets when on his last 
legs. When 'half seas over,' he overflowed with 

[428] 



PIONEER JOKES AND ANECDOTES. 

generous impulses, would give away anything 
within reach and was full of extravagant prom- 
ises, many of which were out of his power to 
fulfill. He once owned AIM Point and some- 
times would move there in order to ' reform,' 
but seldom remained longer than a month or six 
weeks. Alki Point was covered with huge logs 
and stumps, excepting a little cleared ground 
near the bay where the house stood. But when 
the doctor saw it through his telescopic wine- 
glasses it was transformed into a beautiful farm 
with broad meadows covered with lowing herds 
and prancing steeds whose ' necks were clothed 
with thunder.' 

"One day, in the fall of 1860, while viewing 
his farm through his favorite glasses, David 
Stanley, the venerable Salmon Bay hermit, hap- 
pened along, when Maynard gave him a glowing 
description of his Alki Point farm as he him- 
self beheld it just then, and wound up by pro- 
posing to take the old man in partnership, and 
offered him half of the fruit and farm stock for 
simply looking after it and keeping the fences 
in repair. The temptation to gain sudden riches 
was too much for even his unworldliness of mind, 
and he made no delay in embarking for Alki 
Point with all his worldly effects. His object in 
living alone, was, he said, to comply with the in- 
junction to keep one's self ' unspotted from the 
world,' but the doctor assured him that the 
change would not seriously interfere with his 

[429] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

meditations, inasmuch as few people landed at 
Alki Point, notwithstanding its many attrac- 
tions. 

"The day of his departure for the Mecca of 
all his earthly hopes turned out very stormy. 
It was after dark before he reached the point, 
and on trying to land his boat filled with water. 
He lost many of his fowls and came near losing 
his life in the boiling surf. After getting him- 
self and his ' traps' ashore, he built a fire, dried 
his blankets, fried some bacon, ate a hearty sup- 
per and turned in. 

"The excitement of the day, however, pre- 
vented sleep, and he got up and sat by the fire 
till morning. As soon as it was light he strolled 
out to look at the stock, but to his surprise, only a 
bewildering maze of logs and interminable 
stumps were to be seen where he expected to be- 
hold broad fields and green pastures. The only 
thing he could find resembling stock were — to use 
hi& own language — 'an old white horse, stiff in 
all his joints and blind in one eye, and a little, 
runty, scrubby, ornery, steer calf.' After wan- 
dering about over and under logs till noon, he 
concluded he had missed the doctor's farm, and 
returned to the beach with the intention of pull- 
ing further around, but seeing some men in a boat 
a short distance from shore, he hailed it and in- 
quired for Dr. Maynard's farm. Charley Plum- 
mer was one of the party and he told the old man 
that he had the honor of being already upon it. 

[430] 



PIONEER JOKES AND ANECDOTES. 



Stanley explained his object in being there, and 
after a fit of rib-breaking laughter, Mr. Plummer 
advised him to return to Salmon Bay as soon as 
possible, which he did the very next day. 

"The old man had a keen sense of the ludi- 
crous, and joined heartily in the laugh, saying 
he had been taken in a great many times in his 
life, but never in so laughable manner as on this 
occasion. A few days afterward as Charley 
Plummer was sitting in Dr. Maynard's office the 
hermit put in an appearance. 'Good afternoon, 
doctor, ' said he, with an air of profound respect. 
'Why, how do you do, Uncle Stanley, glad to 
see you — how does the poultry ranch prosper? 
By the way, have you moved to Alki Point yet?' 
'O, yes, I took my traps, poultry and all, over 
there several days ago, and had the pleasure of 
meeting Mr/ Plummer there. Did he mention 
the circumstances?' 'No,' said the doctor, 'he 
just came in. How did you find things?' 

" 'To tell the truth, doctor, I couldn't rest 
until I could see you and thank you from the bot- 
tom of my heart for the inestimable blessing you 
have conferred upon me. ' 

"At this demonstration of satisfaction ut- 
tered with an air of profound gratitude, the doc- 
tor leaned back complacently in his easy chair, 
while an expression of benignant self -approval 
illuminated his benevolent face. 

" 'Yes,' continued he, 'I can never be suf- 
ficiently grateful for the benefit your generosity 

[431] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

has already been to me individually, besides it 
bids fair to prove a signal triumph for religion 
and morality, and it may turn out to be a price- 
less contribution to science. ' 

"At the utterance of this unexpected ' rhap- 
sody' the doctor turned with unalloyed delight, 
and seeing that the old man hesitated, he encour- 
aged him by saying, 'Go on, Uncle, go right along 
and tell all about it, although I can't understand 
exactly how it can prove a triumph for religion 
or science.' 

u 'Well,' continued the old man with solemn 
countenance, 'my orothodoxy has been a little 
shaky of late, in fact I have seriously doubted 
the heavenly origin of various forms of inspira- 
tion, but when I got to Alki Point and looked 
around my skepticism fell from my eyes as did 
the scales from the eyes of Saul of old.' 

" 'Yes,' interrupted the doctor, 'the scenery 
over there is really grand and I have often felt 
devotional myself while contemplating the grand 
mountain scenery " 

" 'Scenery? Well — yes, I suppose there is 
some scenery scattered around over there, but it 
isn't that.' 

" 'No, well what was it, uncle V 

" 'Why, sir, as I was saying, when I get a 
chance to fairly look around I was thoroughly 
satisfied that nothing but a miracle, in fact, noth- 
ing short of the ingenuity and power of the Al- 
mighty could possibly have piled up so many 

[432] 



PIONEER JOKES AND ANECDOTES. 

logs and stumps to the acre as I found on your 
farm/ 

"Here the doctor's face perceptibly length- 
ened and a very dry laugh, a sort of hysterical 
cross between a chuckle and a suppressed oath, 
escaped him, but before he had time to speak the 
old man went on : 

" 'So much for the triumph of religion, but 
science, sir, will be under much weightier obliga- 
tions to us when you and I succeed in making an 
honest living from the progeny of an old blind 
horse and a little, miserable runty steer calf. ' 

"This was too much for the doctor and 
springing to his feet he fairly shouted, ' There, 
there, old man, not another word! come right 
along and I will stand treat for the whole town 
and we will never mention Alki Point again.' 

" 'No, thank you,' said the hermit, dryly, 'I 
never indulge, and since you have been the means 
of my conversion you ought to be the last man 
in the world to lead me into temptation, besides 
our income from the blind horse and runty steer 
calf will hardly justify such extravagance. ' 

"Hat and cane in hand he got as far as the 
door, when Maynard called to him saying, 'Look 
here, old man, I hope you're not offended, and if 
you will say nothing about this little matter, I'll 
doctor you the rest of your life for nothing. ' 

"After scratching his head a moment the 
hermit looked up and naively answered, 'No, I'm 
not mad, only astonished, and as for your free 

15- [433] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

medicine, if it is all as bitter as tlie free dose you 
have just given me, I don't want any more of it,' 
and he bowed himself out and was soon lost to the 
doctor's longing gaze. With eyes still fixed on 
the door he exclaimed, ' Blast my head if I 
thought the old crackling had so much dry humor 
in him. Come, Charley, let's have something to 
brave our nerves.' " 

Among the unfortunate victims of the drink 
habit in an early day was poor old Tom Jones. 
Nature had endowed him with a splendid phys- 
ique, but he wrecked himself, traveling down- 
ward, until he barely lived from hand to mouth. 
He made a house on the old Conkling place, up 
the bay toward the Duwampsh River, his tarry- 
ing place. Having been absent from his custom- 
ary haunts for a considerable time, it was re- 
ported that he was dead. In the village of Seat- 
tle, some marauder had been robbing henroosts 
and Tom Jones was accused of being the guilty 
party. Grandfather John Denny told one of his 
characteristic stories about being awakened by a 
great commotion in his henhouse, the lusty cocks 
crowing ' l Tom Jo-o-o-ones is dead ! Tom Jo-o-o- 
ones is dead!" rejoicing greatly that they were 
henceforth safe. 

D. T. Denny gathered up seven men and 
went to investigate the truth of the report of his 
demise. They found him rolled up in his blank- 
ets, in his bunk, not dead but helplessly sick. 
When they told him what they had come for — to 

[434] 



PIONEER JOKES AND ANECDOTES. 

hold an inquest over his dead body, the tears 
rolled down his withered face. They had him 
moved nearer town and cared for, but he finally 
went the way of all the earth. 

Another of the army of the wretched was 
having an attack of the "devil's trimmings," as 
Grandfather John Denny called them, in front of 
a saloon one day and a group stood around wait- 
ing for him to ' 6 come to " ; upon his showing signs 
of returning consciousness, all but one filed into 
the saloon to get a nerve bracer. D. T. Denny, who 
relates the incident, turned away, he being the 
only temperance man in the group. 



[435] 



CHAPTER III. 

TRAILS OF COMMERCE. 

Samuel L. Simpson wrote this sympathetic 
poem concerning the old Hudson Bay Company's 
steamer Beaver, the first steam vessel on the 
North Pacific Coast. She came out from Lon- 
don in 1836 and is well remembered by Puget 
Sound pioneers. In 1889 she went on the rocks in 
Burrard Inlet, British Columbia. 

THE BEAVER'S REQUIEM. 

"Forlorn in the lonesome North she lies, 
That never again will course the sea, 
All heedless of calm or stormy skies, 
Or the rocks to windward or a-lee ; 

For her day is done 

And her last port won 
Let the wild, sad waves her minstrel be. 

She will roam no more on the ocean trails, 
Where her floating scarf of black was seen 
Like a challenge proud to the shrieking gales 
By the mighty shores of evergreen ; 

For she lies at rest 

With a pulseless breast 
In the rough sea's clasp and all serene. 

How the world has changed since she kissed the tide 
Of the storied Thames in the Georgian reign, 

[436] 



TRAILS OP COMMERCE. 

And was pledged with wine as the bonny bride 
Of the "West's isle-gemmed barbaric main — 

With a dauntless form 

That could breast the storm 
As she wove the magic commercial chain. 

For Science has gemmed her brow with stars 
From many and many a mystic field, 
And the nations have stood in crimsoned wars 
And thrones have fallen and empires reeled 

Since she sailed that day 

From the Thames away 
Under God's blue sky and St. George's shield. 

And the world to which, as a pioneer, 
She first came trailing her plume of smoke, 
Is beyond the dreams of the clearest seer 
That ever in lofty symbols spoke — 

In the arts of peace, 

In all life's increase, 
And all the gold-browed stross invoke. 

A part of this was a work of hers, 

In a daring life of fifty years ; 

But the sea-gulls now are her worshipers, 

Wheeling with cries more sad than tears, 

Where she lies alone 

And the surges moan — 
And slowly the north sky glooms and clears. 

And may we not think when the pale mists glide, 
Like the sheeted dead by that rocky shore, 
That we hear in the rising, rolling tide 
The call of the captain's ring once more? 

And it well might be, 

So forlorn is she, 
Where the weird winds sigh and wan birds soar." 

[437] 






BLAZING THE WAY. 

The development of the most easily reached 
natural resources was necessarily first. 

The timber and fisheries were a boundless 
source of wealth in evidence. 

As early as 1847, a sawmill run with power 
afforded by the falls of the Des Chutes at Turn- 
water, furnished lumber to settlers as a means 
of profit. 

The first cargo was taken by the brig Orbit 
in 1850, to San Francisco, she being the first 
American merchant vessel in the carrying trade 
of Puget Sound. The brig George Emory fol- 
lowed suit; each carried a return cargo of goods 
for trade with the settlers and Indians. 

At first the forest-fallers had no oxen to 
drag the timbers, after they were hewn, to the 
water's edge, but rolled and hauled them by hand 
as far as practicable. It was in this manner that 
the brig Leonesa was loaded with piles at Alki 
in the winter of 1851-2, by the Dennys, Terry, 
Low, Boren and Bell. 

Lee Terry brought a yoke of oxen to com- 
plete the work of loading, from Puyallup, on the 
beach, as there was no road through the heavy 
forest. 

Several ships were loaded at Port Towns- 
end, where the possession of three yoke of oxen 
gave them a decided advantage. 

One ship, the G. W. Kendall, was sent from 
San Francisco to Puget Sound for ice. It is 
needless to say the captain did not get a cargo 

[438] 



TRAILS OF COMMERCE. 

of that luxury; lie reported that water did not 
freeze in Puget Sound and consoled the owner 
of the ship by returning with a valuable cargo 
of piles. 

The cutting of logs to build houses and the 
grubbing of stumps to clear the land for gardens 
alternated with the cutting of piles. In the clear* 
ing of land, the Indians proved a great assist- 
ance; far from being lazy many of them were 
hard workers and would dig and delve day after 
day to remove the immense stumps of cedar and 
fir left after cutting the great trees. The set- 
tlers burned many by piling heaps of logs and 
brush on them, others by boring holes far into the 
wood and setting fire, while some were rent by 
charges of powder when it could be afforded. 

The clearing of land in this heavily timbered 
country was an item of large expense if hired, 
otherwise of much arduous toil for the owner. 
The women and children often helped to pile 
brush and set fires and many a merry party 
turned out at night to " chunk up" the blazing 
heaps ; after nightfall, their fire-lit figure flitting 
hither and yon against the purple darkness, sug- 
gested well-intentioned witches. 

Cutting down the tall trees, from two hun- 
dred fifty to four hundred fifty feet, required 
considerable care and skill. Sometimes we felt 
the pathos of it all, when a huge giant, the dig- 
nified product of patient centuries of growth, 
fell crashing, groaning to the earth. This side 

[439] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

of the subject, is presented in a poem "The Lone 
Fir Tree," not included in this volume. 

When finally the small patches of land were 
cleared, planted and tended, the returns were as- 
tonishing, such marvelous vegetables, small 
fruits and flowers, abundant and luxuriant, re- 
warded the toiler. Nature herself, by her heaps 
of vegetation, had foreshown the immense pro- 
ductiveness of the soil. 

In the river valleys were quite extensive 
prairies, which afforded superior stock range, 
but the main dependence of the people was in the 
timber. 

In 1852 H. L. Yesler came, who built the 
first steam sawmill on Puget Sound, at Seattle. 
Other mills sprang up at Port Ludlow, Port 
Gamble, Port Madison and Port Blakely, mak- 
ing the names of Meigs, Pope, Talbot, Keller, 
Renton, Walker, Blinn and others, great in the 
annals of sawmilling on Puget Sound. 

This very interesting account concerning 
Yesler 's sawmill and those who worked in it in 
the early days was first published in a Seattle 
paper many years ago : 

1 ' The other day some of Parke ? s men at work 
on the foundation of the new Union Block on 
Front, corner of Columbia Street, delving among 
ancient fragments of piles, stranded logs and 
other debris of sea-wreck, long buried at that 
part of the waterfront, found at the bottom of 
an excavation they were making, a mass of 

[440] 



TRAILS OF COMMERCE. 

knotted iron, corroded, attenuated and salt-eaten, 
which on being drawn out proved to be a couple 
of ancient boom-chains. 

"The scribe, thinking he might trace some- 
thing of the history of these ancient relics, hunted 
up Mr. Yesler, whom, after considerable explora- 
tion through the mazes of his wilderness on Third 
and Jefferson Streets, he found, hose in 
hand, watering a line of lilies, hollyhocks, pen- 
stemons, ageratums, roses, et al. 

"The subject of the interview being stated, 
Mr. Yesler proceeded to relate: 'Yes, after I 
got my mill started in 1853, the first lot of logs 
were furnished by Dr. Maynard. He came to 
me and said he wanted to clear up a piece on 
the spit, where he wanted to lay out and sell some 
town lots. It was somewhere about where the 
New England and Arlington now stand. The 
location of the old mill is now an indeterminate 
spot, somewhere back of Z. C. Miles' hardware 
store. The spot where the old cookhouse stood 
is in the intersection of Mill and Commercial 
Streets, between the Colman Block and Gard. 
Kellogg 's drug store. Hillory Butler and Bill 
Gilliam had the contract from Mavnard, and 
they brought the logs to the mill by hand — rolled 
or carried them in with handspikes. I warrant 
you it was harder work than Hillory or Bill has 
done for many a day since. Afterwards, Judge 
Phillips, who went into partnership with Dexter 
15a- r 441 -| 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

Horton in the store, got out logs for me some- 
where up the bay. 

" ' During the first five years after my mill 
was started, cattle teams for logging were but 
few on the Sound, and there were no steamboats 
for towing rafts until 1858. Capt. John S. Hill's 
"Ranger No, 2," which he brought up from San 
Francisco, was the first of the kind, and George 
A. Meigs' little tug Resolute, which blew up with 
Capt. Johnny Guindon and his crew in 1861, came 
on about the same time. A great deal of the 
earliest logging on the Sound was done exclu- 
sively by hand, the logs being thrown into the 
water by handspikes and towed to the mill on 
the tide by skiffs. 

" 'In 1853 Hillory Butler took a contract to 
get me out logs at Smith's Cove. George F. Frye 
was his teamster. In the fall of 1854 and spring 
and summer of 1855, Edward Hanf ord and John 
C. Holgate logged for me on their claims, south 
of the townsite toward the head of the bay. T. D. 
Hinckley was their teamster, also Jack Harvey. 
On one occasion, when bringing in a raft to the 
mill, John lost a diary which he was keeping and 
I picked it up on the beach. The last entry it 
contained read: " June 5, 1855. Started with a 
raft for Yesler's mill. Fell off into the water." 
I remember I wrote right after "and drowned," 
and returned the book. I don't know how soon 
afterward John learned from his own book of 
his death by drowning. 

[442] 



TRAILS OF COMMERCE. 

" 'The Indian war breaking out in the fall 
of '55 put a stop to their logging operations, as 
of all the rest. 

" 'The Indians killed or drove off all the 
cattle hereabouts and burned the dwellings of 
Hanford, Holgate and Bell on the borders of 
the town, besides destroying much other property 
throughout the country. 

" 'The logging outfits in those days were of 
the most primitive and meager description. Rafts 
were fastened together by ropes or light boom- 
chains. Supplies of hardware and other neces- 
saries were brought up from San Francisco by 
the lumber vessels on their return trips as or- 
dered by the loggers. I remember on one oc- 
casion Edmund Carr, John A. Strickler, F. Mc- 
Natt and John Ross lost the product of a season's 
labor by their raft getting away from them and 
going to pieces while in transit between the mill 
and the head of the bay. My booming place was 
on the north side of the mill along the beach 
where now the foundations are going up for the 1 
Toklas & Singerman, Gasch, Melhorn and Lewis 
brick block. There being no sufficient break- 
water thereabouts in those times, I used often to 
lose a great many logs as well as boom-chains and 
things by the rafts being broken up by storms. 

" 'My mill in the pioneer times before the 
Indian war furnished the chief resource of the 
early citizens of the place for a subsistence. 

" 'When there were not enough white men 

[443] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

to be had for operating the mill, I employed In- 
dians and trained them to do the work. George 
Frye was my sawyer up to the time he took 
charge of the John B. Libby on the Whatcom 
route. My engineers at different times were T. 
D. Hinckley, L. V. Wyckoff, John T. Moss and 
Douglass. Arthur A. Denny was screw-tender 
in the mill for quite a while ; D. T. Denny worked 
at drawing in the logs. Nearly all the prominent 
old settlers at some time or other were employed 
in connection with the mill in some capacity, 
either at logging or as mill hands. I loaded some 
lumber for China and other foreign ports, as well 
as San Francisco.' " 

The primitive methods, crude appliances and 
arduous toil in the early saw mills have given 
place to palaces of modern mechanical contriv- 
ance it would require a volume to describe, of 
enormous output, loading hundreds of vessels for 
unnumbered foreign ports, and putting in circu- 
lation millions of dollars. 

As a forcible contrast to Mr. Yesler's rem- 
iniscence, this specimen is given of modern mill- 
ing, entitled " Sawing Up a Forest," represent- 
ing the business of but one of the great mills in 
later days (1896) at work on Puget Sound : 

"The best evidence of the revival of the lum- 
ber trade of the Sound, is to be found at the great 
Blakeley mill, where four hundred thousand feet 
of lumber is being turned out every twenty-four 

[444] 



TRAILS OF COMMERCE. 

hours, and the harbor is crowded with ships des- 
tined for almost all parts of the world. 

"One of the mill officials said, 'We are at 
present doing a large business with South Amer- 
ican and Australian ports, and expect with 
proper attention to secure the South African 
trade, which, if successful, will be a big thing. 
We have the finest lumber in the world, and there 
is no reason why we should not be doing five times 
the business that is being done on the Sound. 
Why, there is some first quality and some selected 
Norway lumber out there on the wharf, and it 
does not even compare with our second quality 
lumber. ' 

"The company has at present (1896) 350 
men employed and between $15,000.00 and $20,- 
000.00 in wages is paid out every month. 

"The following vessels are now loading or 
are loaded and ready to sail : 

"Bark Columbia, for San Francisco, 700,- 
000 feet ; ship Aristomene, for Valparaiso, 1,450,- 
000 feet ; ship Earl Burgess, for Amsterdam, 1,- 
250,000 feet; bark Mercury, for San Francisco, 
1,000,000 feet; ship Corolla, for Valparaiso, 1,- 
000,000 feet; barkentine Katie Flickinger, for 
Fiji Islands, 550,000 feet ; bark Matilda, for Hon- 
olulu, 650,000 feet; bark E. Ramilla, for Val- 
paraiso, 700,000 feet ; ship Beechbank, for Val- 
paraiso, 2,000,000 feet. 

' ' To load next week : 

"Barkentine George C. Perkins, for Sidney, 

[445] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

K S. W., 550,000 feet; bark Guinevere, for Val- 
paraiso, 850,000 feet. 

" Those to arrive within the next two weeks : 
"Bark Antoinette, for Valparaiso, 900,000 
feet; barkentine J. L. Stanford, for Melbourne, 
1,200,000 feet; ship Saga, for Valparaiso, 1,200,- 
000 feet ; bark George F. Manson, for Shanghai, 
China, 950,000 feet; ship Harvester, for South: 
Africa, 1,000,000 feet." 

Shingle making was a prominent early in- 
dustry. The process was slow, done entirely by 
hand, in vivid contrast with the great facility and 
productiveness of the modern shingle mills of this 
region ; in consequence of the slowness of manu- 
facture they formerly brought a much higher 
price. It was an ideal occupation at that time. 
After the mammoth cedars were felled, sawn and 
rived asunder, the shingle-maker sat in the midst 
of the opening in the great forest, towering walls 
of green on all sides, with the blue sky overhead 
and fragrant wood spread all around, from which 
he shaped the thin, flat pieces by shaving them 
with a drawing knife. 

Cutting and hewing spars to load ships for 
foreign markets began before 1856. 

As recorded in a San Francisco paper : 
"In 1855, the bark Anadyr sailed from Utsa- 
lady on Puget Sound, with a cargo of spars for 
the French navy yard at Brest. In 1857 the same 
ship took a load from the same place to an Eng- 
lish navy yard. 

[446] 



TRAILS OF COMMERCE. 

"To China, Spain, Mauritius and many 
other places, went the tough, enduring, flexible 
fir tree of Puget Sound. The severe test applied 
have proven the Douglas fir to be without an 
equal in the making of masts and spars. 

"In later days the Fram, of Arctic fame, 
was built of Puget Sound fir." 

The discovery and opening of the coal 
mines near Seattle marks an epoch in the com- 
merce of the Northwest. 

As early as 1859 coal was found and mined 
on a small scale east of Seattle. 

The first company, formed in 1866-7, was 
composed of old and well-known citizens: D. 
Bagley, Q-. F. Whitworth and Selucius Garfield, 
who was called the ' ' silver-tongued orator. ' ' Oth- 
ers joined in the enterprise of developing the 
mines, which were found to be extensive and 
valuable. Legislation favored them and trans- 
portation facilities grew. 

The names of McGrilvra, Yesler, Denny and 
Robinson were prominent in the work. Tram- 
ways, chutes, inclines, tugboats, barges, coalcars 
and locomotives brought out the coal to deep 
water on the Sound, across Lakes Washington 
and Union, and three pieces of railroad. A long 
trestle at the foot of Pike Street, Seattle, at 
which the ship "Belle Isle," among others, often 
loaded, fell in, demolished by the work of the 
teredo. 

The writer remembers two startling trips up 

[447] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

the incline, nine hundred feet long, on the east 
side of Lake Washington, in an empty coal car, 
the second time duly warned by the operatives 
that the day before a car load of furniture had 
been "let go" over the incline and smashed to 
kindlingwood long before it reached the bot- 
tom. The trips were made amidst an oppressive 
silence and were never repeated. 

The combined coal fields of Washington 
cover an area of one thousand six hundred fifty 
square miles. Since the earliest developments 
great strides have been made and a large number 
of coal mines are operated, such as the Black 
Diamond, Gilman, Franklin, Wilkeson, the U. 
S. government standard, Carbonado, Roslyn, etc., 
with a host of underground workers and huge 
steam colliers to carry an immense output. 

The carrying of the first telegraph line 
through the dense forest was another step for- 
ward. Often the forest trees were pressed into 
service and insulators became the strange orna- 
ments of the monarchs of the trackless wilder- 
ness. 

Pioneer surveyors, of whom A. A. Denny 
was one, journalists, lawyers and other profes- 
sional men, with the craftsmen, carpenters who 
helped to repair the Decatur and build the fort, 
masons who helped to build the old University 
of Washington, and other industrious workers 
brought to mind might each and every one fur- 

C448] 



TRAILS OF COMMERCE. 

nish a volume of unique and interesting remin- 
iscence. 

The women pioneers certainly demand a 
work devoted to them alone. 

Simultaneously with the commercial and 
political development, the educational and re- 
ligious took place. The children of the pioneers 
were early gathered in schools and the parents 
preceded the teachers or supplemented their ef- 
forts with great earnestness. Books, papers and 
magazines were bountifully provided and both 
children and grown people read with avidity. 
For many years the mails came slowly, but when 
the brimming bags were emptied, the contents 
were eagerly seized upon, and being almost alto- 
gether eastern periodical literature, the children 
narrowly escaped acquiring the mental squint 
which O. W. Holmes speaks of having affected 
the youth of the East from the perusal of Eng- 
lish literature. 

The pioneer mail service was one of hard- 
ship and danger. The first mail overland in the 
Sound region was carried by A. B. Rabbeson in 
1851, and could not have been voluminous, as it 
was transported in his pockets while he rode 
horseback. 

A well known mail carrier of early days was 
Nes Jacob Ohm or " Dutch Ned," as every one 
called him. He, with his yellow dog and sallow 
cayuse, was regarded as an indispensable insti- 
tution. All three stood the test of travel on the 

[449] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

trail for many years. The yellow canine had. 
quite a reputation as a panther dog, and no doubt 
was a needed protection in the dark wild forest, 
but he has long since gone where the good dogs 
go and the cayuse probably likewise. 

"Ned" was somewhat eccentric though a 
faithful servant of the public. In common with 
other forerunners of civilization he was a little 
superstitious. 

One winter night, grown weary of drowsing 
by his bright, warm fireplace in his little cabin, 
he began to walk back and forth in an absent- 
minded way, when suddenly his hair fairly stood 
on end ; there were two stealthy shadows follow- 
ing him every where he turned. In what state 
of mind he passed the remainder of the night is 
unknown, but soon after he related the incident 
to his friends" evincing much anxiety as to what 
it might signify. Probably he had two lights 
burning in different parts of the room or suffic- 
iently bright separate flames in the fireplace. 

Doubtless it remained a mystery unex- 
plained to him, to the end of his days. 

The pioneer merchants who traded with the 
Indians, and swapped calico and sugar for butter 
and eggs, with the settlers, pioneer steamboat 
men who ran the diminutive steamers between 
Olympia and Seattle, pioneer editors, who pub-? 
lished tri-weeklies whose news did not come in 
daily, pioneer milliners who "did up" the hats 
of the other pioneer women with taste and neat- 

[450] 



TKAILS OP COMMERCE. 

ness, pioneer legislators, blacksmiths, bakers, 
shoemakers, foundry men, shipbuilders, etc., 
blazed the trails of commerce where now there 
are broad highways. 



[451] 



CHAPTER IV 

BUILDING OF THE TEKKITOKIAL TJNIVEKSITY. 

Early in 1861, the University Commission- 
ers, Eev. D. Bagley, John Webster and Edmund 
Carr, selected the site for the proposed building, 
ten acres in Seattle, described as a " beautiful 
eminence overlooking Elliott Bay and Puget 
Sound." A. A. Denny donated eight and a frac- 
tion acres, Terry and Lander, one and a fraction 
acres. The structure was fifty by eighty feet, 
two stories in height, beside belfry and observa- 
tory. There were four rooms above, including 
the grand lecture room, thirty-six by eighty feet, 
and six rooms below, beside the entrance hall of 
twelve feet, running through the whole building. 

The president's house was forty by fifty, 
with a solid foundation of brick and cement cel- 
lar; the boarding house twenty-four by forty- 
eight, intended to have an extension when need- 
ed. A supply was provided of the purest spring 
water, running through one thousand four hun- 
dred feet of charred pump logs. 

Buildings of such dimensions were not com- 
mon in the Northwest in those days; materials 
were expensive and money was scarce. 

It was chiefly through the efforts of John 
Denny that a large appropriation of land was 
made by Congress for the benefit of the new-born 

[452] 



TERRITORIAL UNIVERSITY. 

institution. Although advanced in years, his hair 
as white as snow, he made the long journey to 
Washington city and return when months were 
required to accomplish it. 

By the sale of these lands the expense of con- 
struction and purchase of material were met. 
The land was then worth but one dollar and a 
half per acre, but enough was sold to amount to 
$30,400.69. 

At that time the site lay in the midst of a 
heavy forest, through which a trail was made in 
order to reach it. 

Of the ten-acre campus, seven acres were 
cleared of the tall fir and cedar trees at an ex- 
pense of two hundred and seventy-five dollars 
per acre, the remaining three were worse, at three 
hundrd and sixteen dollars per acre. 

The method of removing these forest giants 
was unique and imposing. The workers partially 
grubbed perhaps twenty trees standing near each 
other, then dispatched a sailor aloft in their airy 
tops to hitch them together with a cable and de- 
scend to terra firma. A king among the trees was 
chosen whose downfall should destroy his com- 
panions, and relentlessly uprooting it, the tree- 
fallers suddenly and breathlessly withdrew to 
witness a grand sight, the whole group of unnum- 
bered centuries' growth go crashing down at 
once. They would scarcely have been human had 
they uttered no shout of triumph at such a spec- 
tacle. To see but one great, towering fir tree 

[453] 



BLAZING THE WAT. 

go grandly to the earth with rush of boughs and 
thunderous sound is a thrilling, pathetic and awe- 
inspiring sight. 

About the center of the tract was left a tall 
cedar tree to which was added a topmast. The 
tree, shorn of its limbs and peeled clean of bark, 
was used for a flag-staff. 

The old account books, growing yearly more 
curious and valuable, show that the majority of 
the old pioneers joined heartily in the undertak- 
ing and did valiant work in building the old Uni- 
versity. 

They dug, hewed, cleared land, hauled mater- 
ials, exchanged commodities, busily toiled from 
morn to night, traveled hither and yon, in short 
did everything that brains, muscle and energy 
could accomplish in the face of what now would 
be deemed well nigh insurmountable obstacles. 
The president of the board of commissioners, the 
Rev. D. Bagley, has said that in looking back 
upon it he was simply f oolhardly. i ' Why, we had 
not a dollar to begin with," said he ; nevertheless 
pluck and determination accomplished wonders ; 
many of the people took the lands at one dollar 
and a half an acre, in payment for work and ma- 
terials. 

Clarence B. Bagley, son of Bev. D. Bagley, 
is authority for the following statement, made 
in 1896: 

"Forty-eight persons were employed on the 
work and nearly all the lumber for the building 

. [454] 



TEBBITOBIAL UNIVERSITY. 

was secured from the mills at Port Blakeley and 
Port Madison, while the white pine of the finish- 
ishing, siding, doors, sash, etc., came from a mill 
at Seabeck, on Hood Canal. I have been looking 
over the books my father kept at that time and 
find the names of many persons whom all old- 
timers will remember. I found the entry relat- 
ing to receiving 10,000 brick from Capt. H. H. 
Boeder, the price being $15.50 per thousand, 
while lime was $3 per barrel and cement $4.50 per 
barrel. Another entry shows that seven gross of 
ordinary wood screws cost in that early day 
$9.78. Capt. Boeder is now a resident of What- 
com County. The wages then were not very high, 
the ordinary workman receiving $2 and $2.25 
per day and the carpenters and masons $4 per 
day. 

"On the 10th of March, John Pike and his 
son, Harvey Pike, began to clear the ground for 
the buildings and a few days later James Crow 
and myself commenced. The Pikes cleared the 
acre of ground in the southeast corner and we 
cleared the acre just adjoining, so that we four 
grubbed the land on which the principal building 
now stands. All the trees were cut down and the 
land leveled off, and the trees which now grace 
the grounds started from seeds and commenced to 
grow up a few years later and are now about 
twenty-five years old. Among the men who helped 
clear the land were : Hillory Butler, John Carr, 
W. H. Hyde, Edward Bichardson, L. Holgate, 

[455] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

H. A. Atkins, Jim Hunt, L. B. Andrews, L. Pink- 
ham, Ira Woodin, Dr. Josiah Settle, Parmelee & 
Dudley, and of that number that are now dead 
are Carr, Hyde, Holgate, Atkins and Parmelee 
and Dudley. Mr. Crow is now living at Kent and 
owns a good deal of property there. Mr. Carr 
was a relative of the Hanfords. Mr. Holgate 
was a brother of the Holgate who was killed in 
Seattle during the Indian war, being shot dead 
while standing at the door of the fort. He was 
an uncle of the Hanfords. Mr. Atkins was may- 
or of the town at one time. 

"R. King, who dressed the flagstaff, is not 
among the living. The teamsters who did most 
of the hauling were Hillory Butler, Thomas Mer- 
cer and D. B. Ward, all of whom are still liv- 
ing. William White was blacksmith here then 
and did a good deal of work on the building. He 
is now living in California and is well-to-do, but 
his son is still a resident of Seattle. Thomas 
Russell was the contractor for putting up the 
frame of the university building. He died some 
time since and of his estate there is left the Rus- 
sell House, and his family is well known. John 
Dodge and John T. Jordan did a good deal of 
the mason work, both of whom are now dead, but 
they have children who still live in this city. The 
stone for the foundation was secured from Port 
Orchard and the lime came from Victoria, being 
secured here at a large cost." 

George Austin, who raised the flagstaff and 
[456] 



TERRITORIAL UNIVERSITY. 

put the top on, has been dead many years. Dex- 
ter Horton and Yesler, Denny & Co. kept stores 
in those days and furnished the nails, hardware 
and general merchandise. Mr. Horton 's store 
was where the bank now stands and the store of 
Yesler, Denny & Co. was where the National 
Bank of Commerce now stands. L. V. Wyckoff, 
the father of Van Wyckoff, who was sheriff of 
the county for many years, did considerable haul- 
ing and draying. He also is dead. Prank Ma- 
thias was a carpenter and did a good deal of the 
finishing work. He died in California and his 
heirs have since been fighting for his estate. 

H. McAlear kept a stove and hardware store 
and furnished the stoves for the building. He 
is now dead and there has been a contest over 
some of his property in the famous Hill tract in 
this city. 

D. C. Beatty and R. H. Beatty, not relatives, 
were both carpenters. The former is now living 
on a farm near Olympia and the latter is in the 
insane asylum at Steilacoom. Ira Woodin is 
still alive and is the founder of Woodinville. In 
the early days Mr. Woodin and his father owned 
the only tannery in the country, which was lo- 
cated at the corner of South Fourth Street and 
Yesler Avenue, then Mill Street. O. J. Carr, 
whose name appears as a carpenter, lives at 
Edgewater. He was the postmaster of the town 
for many years. 

O. C. Shorey and A. P. DeLin, as "Shorey 

[457] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

& DeLin," furnished the desks for the several 
rooms and also made the columns that grace the 
front entrance to the building. 

Plummer & Hinds furnished some of the 
materials used in the construction. George W. 
Harris, the banker, auditor of the Lake Shore 
road, is a stepson of Mr. Plummer. 

Jordan and Thorndyke were plasterers and 
both have been dead for many years. 

David Graham, who did some of the grad- 
ing, is still living in Seattle. A. S. Mercer did 
most of the grading with Mr. Graham. Mr. Mer- 
cer is a brother of Thomas Mercer, who brought 
out two parties of young ladies from the Atlan- 
tic Coast by sea, many of whom are married and 
are now living in Seattle. Harry Hitchcock, one 
of the carpenters, is now dead. Harry Gordon 
was a painter and was quite well known for some 
years. He finally went East, and I think is still 
living, although I have not heard from him for 
many years. Of the three who composed the 
board of university commissioners Mr. Carr ancl 
Mr. Webster are dead. 

All the paint, varnishes, brushes, etc., were 
purchased in Victoria and the heavy duties made 
the cost very high ; in fact, everything was cost- 
ly in those days. An entry is made of a keg of 
lath nails which cost $15, and a common wooden 
wheelbarrow cost $7. The old bell came from 
the East, and cost, laid down in Seattle, $295. It 
cost $50 to put in position, and thus the whole 

t458] 



TERRITOBIAL UNIVERSITY. 

cost was nearly $350. It is made of steel and was 
rang from the tower for the first time in March, 
1862." 

The only tinner in the place covered the 
cupola where hung the bell. Its widely reaching 
voice proclaimed many things beside the call to 
studies, fulfilling often the office of bell-buoy and 
fog-horn to distracted mariners wandering in 
fog and smoke, and giving alarm in case of fire. 
The succeeding lines set forth exactly historical 
facts as well as expressing the attachment of the 
old pupils to the bell and indeed to the university 
itself : 

THE VOICE OF THE OLD TJNIVEESITY BELL. 
A vibrant voice thrilled through the air, 
Now here, now there, seemed everywhere ; 
"My young thoughts stirred, laid away in a shroud, 
And joyfully rose and walked abroad. 
It was long ago in my youth and pride, 
When my young thoughts lived and my young thoughts 

died, 
And often and over all unafraid 
They wander and wander like ghosts »unlaid. 

Through calm and storm for many a year, 
I faithfully called my children dear, 
And honest and urgent have been my tones 
To hurry the laggard and hasten the drones, 
But earnest and early or lazy and late 
They toiled up the hill and entered the gate, 
Across the campus they rushed pell-mell 
At the call of the old University bell. 

[459] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

If danger menaced on land or sea, 

The note of warning loud and free; 

Or a joyous peal in the twilight dim 

Of the New Year's dawn, after New Year's hymn. 

If a ship in the bay floated out ablaze, 

Or the fog-wreaths blinded the mariner's gaze, 

Safe into port they steered them well, 

Cheered by the old University bell. 

When Lincoln the leader was stricken low, 

! a darker day may we never know, 

A bitter wail from my heart was wrung 

To float away from my iron tongue, 

On storm-wing cast it traveled fast, 

Above me writhed the flag half-mast. 

My children wept, their fathers frowned, 

With clenched hands looked down to the ground, 

For the saddest note that ever fell 

From the throat of the old University bell. 

But deep was the joy and wild was the clamor, 
With leaping hot haste they hurried the hammer, 
When the battles were fought and the war was all over, 
O'er the North and the South did the peace angels hover; 
My children sang sweetly and softly and low 
"The Union forever, is safe now we know," 
The years they may come and the years they may go, 
And hearts that were loyal will ever be so. 

There's a long roll-call, I ring over all 

That have harkened and answered in the old hall ; 

A-dams and Andrews, (from A unto Z, 

Alphabetic arrangement as any can see), 

Bonney and Bagley and Mercer and Hays, 

Francis and Denny in bygone days, 

Hastings and Ebey, the Oregon Strongs, 

[460] 



TERRITORIAL UNIVERSITY. 

And many another whose name belongs 
To fame and the world, or has passed away 
To realms that are bright with endless day. 

The presidents ruled with a right good will, 
Mercer and Barnard, Whitworth and Hill, 
Anderson, Powell, Gatch and Hall, 
Harrington now and I've named them all. 
Witten and Thayer, Hansee and Lee, 
The wise professors were fair to see, 
They strictly commanded, did study compel 
At the call of the old University bell. 

Osborne, McCarty, Thornton and Spain, 

With their companions in sunshine and rain, 

Back in the seventies, might tell what befell 

At the ring of the old University bell. 

The eighties came on and the roll-call grew longer 

Emboldened with learning, my voice rang the stronger ; 

The day of Commencement saw young men and maids 

Proudly emerge from the classic shades 

Where oft they had heard and heeded well 

The voice of the old University bell. 

They bore me away to a shrine new and fine, 

Where the pilgrims of learning with yearning incline; 

Enwrapped they now seem, in a flowery dream, 

The stars of good fortune so radiant beam. 

Of the long roll call not one is forgot, 

If sorrow beset them or happy their lot ; 

My wandering children all love me so well, 

Their life-work done, they'll wish a soft knell 

Might be tolled by the old University bell. 

Such is the force of habit that it was many 
years before I could shake off the inclination to 

[461] 



BLAZING THE WAT. 

obey the imperative summons of the old Univer- 
sity bell. 

With other small children, I ran about on 
the huge timbers of the foundation, in the dusk 
when the workmen were gone, glancing around 
a little fearfully at the dark shadows in the thick 
woods, and then running home as fast as our 
truant feet could carry us. 

The laying of the cornerstone was an impos- 
ing ceremony to our minds and a significant as 
well as gratifying occasion to our elders. 

The speeches, waving of flags, salutes, Ma- 
sonic emblems and service with the music ren- 
dered by a fine choir, accompanied by a pioneer 
melodeon, made it quite as good as a Fourth 
of July. 

All the well-to-do ranchers and mill men 
sent their children from every quarter. The 
Ebeys of Whidby Island, Hays of Olympia, 
Strongs of Oregon, Burnetts of down Sound and 
Dennys of Seattle, beside the children of many 
other prominent pioneers, received their intro- 
duction to learning beneath its generous shelter. 
A cheerful, energetic crowd they were with clear 
brains and vigorous bodies. 

The school was of necessity preparatory; in 
modern slang, a University was rather previous 
in those days. 

But all out-of-doors was greater than our 
books when it came to physical geography and 
natural history, to say nothing of botany, geol- 

E462] 



TERRITORIAL UNIVERSITY. 

ogy, etc. Observing eyes and quick wits discov- 
ered many things not yet in this year of grace 
set down in printed pages. 

A curious thing, and rather absurd, was the 
care taken to instruct us in " bounding" New 
Hampshire, Vermont and all the rest of the 
Eastern states, while owing to the lack of local 
maps we were obliged to gain the most of our 
knowledge of Washington by traveling over it. 

The first instruction given within its walls 
was in a little summer school taught by Mrs. O. J. 
Carr, which I attended. 

Previous to this my mother was my patient 
and affectionate instructor, an experienced and 
efficient one I will say, as teaching had been her 
profession before coming west. 

Asa Mercer was at the head of the Univer- 
sity for a time, followed by W. E. Barnard, under 
whose sway it saw prosperous days. A careful 
and painstaking teacher with a corps of teach- 
ers fresh from eastern schools, and ably second- 
ed in his efforts by his lovely wife, a very ac- 
complished lady, he was successful in building 
up the attendance and increasing the efficiency 
of the institution. But after a time it languished, 
and was closed, the funds running low. 

Under the Rev. P. H. Whitworth it again 
arose. It was then run with the common school 
f unds, which raised such opposition that it finally 
came to a standstill. 

D. T. Denny was a school director and coun- 

[463] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

ty treasurer at the same time, but could not pay 
any monies to the University without an order 
from the county superintendent. On one occa- 
sion he was obliged to put a boy on horseback 
and send him eleven miles through the forest 
and back, making a twenty-two mile ride, to 
obtain the required order. 

The children and young people who attend- 
ed the University in the old times are scattered 
far and wide, some have attained distinction in 
their callings, many are worthy though obscure, 
and some have passed away from earthly scenes. 

We spoke our " pieces," delivered orations, 
wrote compositions, played ball games of one 
or more "cats" and many old-fashioned games 
in and around the big building and often climbed 
up to the observatory to look out over the beau- 
tiful bay and majestic mountains. That glisten- 
ing sheet of water often drew the eyes from the 
dull page and occasionally an unwary pupil 
would be reminded in a somewhat abrupt fashion 
to proceed with his researches. 

One afternoon a boy who had been gazing 
on its changing surface for some minutes, caught 
sight of a government vessel rounding the point, 
and jumped up saying excitedly, "There's a war 
ship a-cominM" to the consternation though 
secret delight of the whole school. 

"Well, don't stop her," dryly said the teach- 
er, and the boy subsided amid the smothered 
laughter of his companions. 

[464] 



TERRITORIAL UNIVERSITY. 

Cupid sometimes came to school then, as I 
doubt not lie does in these days, not as a learner 
but distracter — to those who were his victims. 

It's my opinion, and I have it from St. 
Catherine, he should have been set on the dunce 
block and made to study Malthus. 

Two notable victims are well remembered, 
one a lovely blonde young girl, a beautiful singer ; 
the other as dark as a Spaniard, with melting 
black eyes and raven tresses. They did not wait 
to graduate but named the happy day. The 
blonde married a Democratic editor, well known 
in early journalism, the other a very popular 
man, yet a resident of Seattle. 

The whole of the second story of the Uni- 
versity consisted of one great hall or assembly 
room with two small ante-rooms. Here the 
school exhibitions were held, lectures and en- 
tertainments given. Christmas trees, Sunday 
schools, political meetings and I do not know 
what else, although I think no balls were ever 
permitted in those days, a modern degeneration 
to my mind. 

The old building has always been repainted 
white until within a few years and stood among 
the dark evergreen a thing of dignity and 
beauty, the tall fluted columns with Doric capitals 
being especially admired. 

But changes will come ; a magnificent, new, 
expensive and ornate edifice has been provided 

16- [465] 



BLAZING THE WAT. 

with many modern adjuncts — and the old Uni- 
versity has been painted a grimy putty color ! 

The days of old, the golden days, will never 
be forgotten by the students of the old Univer- 
sity, which, although perhaps not so comfortable 
or elegant nor of so elevated a curriculum as the 
new, compassed the wonderful beginnings of 
things intellectual, sowing the seed that others 
might harvest, planting the tree of knowledge 
from which others should gather the fruit. 



[466] 



CHAPTER V. 

A CHEHALIS LETTER, PENNED IN '52. 

Mound Prairie, Chehalis River, near 
Mr. Ford's Tavern, Lewis County, 
Oregon Territory. 14 Nov. 1852. 

My dear Elizabeth: 

I believe this is the first letter I have ad- 
dressed to you since we removed from Wiscon- 
sin, and I feel truly thankful to say that through 
the infinite mercy of God both my family and 
self have been in the enjoyment of excellent, un- 
interrupted health. 

The last letter we received from Wisconsin 
was from my brother Thomas, complaining of 
our long silence. We found, too, that Mr. James' 
long letter, containing an account of our route — 
arrival in Oregon — our having made a claim on 
the Clackamas, with description of it — and all 
our progress up to February last, had been re- 
ceived. So here begins the next chapter. About 
the middle of March we removed into our new 
log house; here we found everything necessary 
to make a homestead comfortable and even de- 
lightful — a beautiful building spot on a pleasant 
knoll of considerable extent — a clear brook run- 
ning along within a few yards of our door ; and 
surrounded by the grandest mountain scenery — 
and more than that, decidedly healthy. Within 

[467] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

walking distance of Oregon City and Milwaukee, 
and eight miles from Portland. With, all these 
advantages the boys could not reconcile them- 
selves to it on account of the great lack of grass 
which prevails for twenty miles 'round. 

Brush of all description, Hazel, Raspberry, 
Salal, Rose, Willow and Pern grow to a most 
gigantic size. And in February what appeared 
to us and others — a kind of grass — sprang up 
quickly over the ground and mountain side ; nor 
was it 'till May, when it blossomed out, that we 
discovered what we hoped would be nourishment 
for our cattle, was nothing more than the grass 
Iris, and fully accounted for the straying of our 
cattle and the constant hunt that was kept up by 
our neighbors and selves after cattle and horses. 

In fact we soon found that this was no place 
for cattle until it had been subdued and got into 
cultivation. To make the matter worse we were 
every now and then in the receipt of messages 
and accounts from our friends and acquaintances 
who were located, some in Umpqua, some in the 
Willamette Valley, some at Puget Sound. Those 
from Umpqua sent us word that there was grass 
enough all winter, on one claim for a thousand 
head of cattle. Mr. Lucas in the Callipooiah 
Mountains at the head of the Willamette, sent 
us pressing invitations to come up and settle by 
him, where he had grass as high as his knees in 
February. In the Willamette the first rate places 
were all taken up. Samuel and Billy joined in 

[468] 



A CHEHALIS LETTER. 

begging their father to make a tour north or 
south to see some of these desirable places. 
Finally he was induced, though rather reluctant- 
ly (so well he liked our pleasant home and so 
confident was he of raising grass and grain) to 
visit one or the other after harvest. We finished 
our harvest in July and in August Mr. J., ac- 
companied by Billy, set off on a journey of ex- 
ploration to the north. The land route lay along 
the north bank of the Columbia for sixty miles 
to the mouth of the Cowlitz, then thirty miles 
up that river over Indian trails, all but impas- 
sable. This brought them into the beautiful 
prairies of Puget Sound, sixty or seventy miles 
through which brought them to that branch of 
the Pacific. They returned after an absence of 
between three and four weeks. So well were 
Mr. James and Billy pleased with the country 
that they made no delay on their return in selling 
out their improvements which they had an op- 
portunity of doing immediately. We had milked 
but two cows during the summer, but even with 
the poor feed we had, I had kept the family in 
butter and sold $20 worth, but then I had fifty 
cents and ^ve shillings per pound. As to my 
poultry, I obtained with some difficulty the favor 
of a pullet and a rooster for $2.00. In March I 
added another hen to my stock, and so rapidly 
did they increase, that in September I had, small 
and big, eighty. After keeping six pullets and 
a rooster for myself, I made $25.00 off the rest, 

[469] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

so you may judge by a little what much will do 
in Oregon. 

Well, it is time for me to take you on board 
the Batteaux, as I wish you all had been on the 
16th of September, when we set sail down the 
Willamette from Milwaukee. After two days 
we entered the Columbia, one of the noblest of 
rivers. After three days, with a head wind all 
the time, we entered the mouth of the Cowlitz, a 
beautiful stream, but so swift that none but In- 
dians can navigate it. We had to hire five In- 
dians for $50.00 to take us up. Four days 
brought us, to what is called the upper landing 
of the Cowlitz. Here ended our river travel — 
by far the most pleasant journey I ever made. 
There we met Samuel and Billy who with Tom 
had taken the cattle by the trail. We halted at 
a Mr. Jackson's, where we stopped for a fort- 
night, while Mr. J. and the boys journeyed away 
in search of adventures and a claim. 

On the banks of the Chehalis, 30 miles north 
of where we stopped and 30 miles south of the 
Sound, they found a claim satisfactory in every 
respect to all parties, and what was not a little, 
we found a cabin a great deal better than the one 
we found last winter. 

The Indians told us that tennes (white) 
Jack, who momicked (worked) it had clatawawed 
(traveled or went) to California in quest of 
chicamun (metal) and had never chacooed 
(come back), so we entered on tennes Jack's 

[470] 



A CHEHALIS LETTER. 

labours. As a farm and location, this certainly 
exceeds our most sanguine expectations. I often 
thought last year that we had bettered our con- 
ditions from what they were in Wisconsin, and 
now I think we have improved ours ten times 
beyond what we then were. 

Our claim is along the banks of the Chehalis, 
a navigable river which empties into the Pacific 
at Grays Harbor, about 70 miles below us. A 
settlement is just commenced at the mouth of 
the river and a saw mill is erected 10 miles be- 
low us, or rather is building. These are all the 
settlements on the river below us, and our near- 
est neighbor above us is 6 miles up. A prairie 
of 10 miles long and varying in width from 2 to 4 
miles stretched away to the north of us, watered 
with a beautiful stream of water and covered 
with grass at this time as green as in May. 

A stream of water flows within a few yards 
of our house, so full of salmon that Tom and 
Johnny could with ease catch a barrel in an hour ; 
they are from 20 to 30 lbs. in a fish. Besides 
which we. have a small fish here very much re- 
sembling a pilchard. 

We are blessed with the most beautiful 
springs of water, one of which will be enclosed 
in our door yard. As far as I can learn there 
are in the thickest settled parts of this portion 
of Oregon, about one family in a township — 
many towns are not so thickly settled. We are 
the only inhabitants of this great prairie except 

[471] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

a few Indians who have a fishing station about 
a mile from us. These are on very friendly terms 
with us, supplying us with venison, wild fowl 
and mats at a very reasonable price, as we are 
the only customers and we in return letting them 
have what sappalille (flour) and molasses we 
can at a reasonable price, which they are always 
willing to pay. Soap is another article I am 
glad to see in request among them. And it af- 
fords them no little amusement to look at the 
plates of the Encyclopedia. But I fear it will 
be long before they will be brought to momick the 
Make (earth). They are the finest and stoutest 
set of Indians we have seen. 

We converse with them by means of a jargon 
composed of English, French and Chinook, and 
which the Indians speak fluently, and we are 
getting to waw-waw (speak) pretty well. My 
children, I am thankful to say, look better than 
I ever saw them in America; they have not 
had the least symptoms of any of the diseases 
that they were so much afflicted with in Wis-* 
consin. And now, my dear Elizabeth, if wish- 
ing would bring you here, you should soon be 
here in what appears to me to be one of the 
most delightful portions of the globe. But then, 
ever since I have been in America I have re- 
garded a mild climate as a " pearl of great price" 
in temporal things and felt willing to pay for 
it accordingly and I have not had the least rea- 
son to think I have valued it too high. Many 

[472] 



A CHEHALIS LETTER. 

and many a year has passed since I have en- 
joyed life as I have since I have been in Oregon. 
I should have told you that the Chehalis is 
one of the most beautiful rivers in Oregon. Our 
claim stretches a mile along the north bank of 
it. It flows through quite an elevated part of 
the country. Our house, though within a few 
rods of the river, has one of the finest views in 
Oregon, the prairie stretching away to the north 
like a fine lawn, skirted on each side by oak and 
maple, at this time in all the brilliant hues of 
Autumn; behind, on gently rising hills, forests 
of fir and cedar of most gigantic height and size ; 
farther still to the northeast rises the ever snow- 
clad mountains of Rainier and St. Helens, on 
the opposite side to the southwest of the coast 
range, so near that we can see the trees on them. 
So magnificent are those immense snow moun- 
tains that none but those who have seen them can 
f orm any idea of it. 

This prairie takes its name from a remark- 
able mound about a mile from our house; it 
stands in about 25 acres and is 100 feet high, 
with a pure spring half way up. The rest of 
the prairie is almost level without a spring except 
in the margin. The soil of the mound, as well 
as some of the margin, has just enough clay to 
make it a rich and excellent soil ; the rest of the 
prairie is deficient in clay; it has a rich black 
mould overlaying two feet deep, resting on sub- 
stratum of sand and gravel, which in some places 

[473] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

is so mixed with the soil as to give it the name 
of a gravelly prairie. You might have the choice 
of fifty such prairies as this and some better 
on this river. Farmers were never better paid 
in the world, even my little dairy of two cows 
has for the month past turned me in, at least I 
have sold butter to the amount of two and a half 
bushels of wheat a day at Wisconsin prices of 
30 cents, and have by me 26 pounds for which I 
shall have at least 60 cents or $1.00 per pound. 
I now milk three cows ; we have four ; and Mr. 
James means to add two more and a few sheep. 
Mr. J. sold the worst yoke of cattle he had for 
$160.00. Cows are worth from $50.00 to $100.00 ; 
sheep are from $5.00 to $9.00 ; chickens, 60 cents 
to $1.00 each ; eggs, 50 cents per dozen ; dry goods 
and groceries just the same as in the states ; wheat 
$3.00 per bushel. We left our wheat on the 
Clackamas to be threshed. They, Samuel and 
Billy, are now preparing to put in ten acres of 
fall wheat, potatoes are $2.00 per bushel. In- 
dians easy to hire, both men and women, at rea- 
sonable wages. Extensive coal mines of excel- 
lent quality have been discovered within 15 miles 
of this place. But all these things are secondary 
in my estimation compared with the climate, 
which is allowed by all English to be superior to 
their native clime. 

It makes me very sad to think how we are 
separated as a family, never to meet again (at 
least in all probability) under one roof. O, that 

[474] 



A CHEHALIS LETTER. 

we may all meet at least at the right hand of 
God, let this be our sole concern and our path 
will be made plain in temporals. 

You have the advantage of us in schools, 
churches and society, but I feel quite patient 
to wait the arrival of those blessings in addition 
to those we enjoy. This letter will be accom- 
panied by a paper to Mr. McNaves, "The Co- 
lumbian/ 9 published at Olympia, Puget Sound. 
Mr. James has just written an article for it, en- 
titled the "Rainy Season." I wonder how Amy 
and Edward are getting on; how I wish they 
were here. Do you think they will ever come 
over? Should any of you (of course I include 
any old friends and acquaintances at Caledonia) 
determine on removing to this part, the instruc- 
tions in my husband's letter are the best we can 
give. 

There has been great suffering on the road 
this year. We have seen a great many families 
who came through in a very fair manner, some 
of them without even the loss of a single head 
of cattle; these were among the first trains; 
among the latter the loss of cattle and lives was 
awful. Some horrid murders were committed 
on the road, for which the murderers were tried 
and shot or hung on the spot. The papers say 
there will be fifteen thousand added to the popu- 
lation of Oregon by this year's emigration. It 
is in contemplation to open a road through from 
Grand Ronde on to Puget Sound, which will 

[475] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

shorten the distance at least 300 miles and out 6i 
the very worst of the road. Samuel and Billy 
are determined to come to meet you on the new 
route with Jack and Dandy, and more if wanted. 
Now we are settled in earnest you shall hear from 
us oftener and hope we shall the same from you. 
Give my kindest and best love to Mother. One 
old lady, about her age, crossed the plains when 
we did ; she was alive and well when we left the 
other side of the Columbia. 

I must introduce to you an old acquaintance 
— the Rooks — caw ! caw ! caw ! all around us. We 
have a rookery on our farm. It is now the 28th 
of Nov., a fortnight since I wrote the above, in 
hopes that it would be on its passage to Wiscon- 
sin ere this, but was disappointed of sending 
to the postoffice. Weather warm and sunshiny 
as May, two or three white frosts that vanished 
with the rising of the sun are all we have had, 
not the slightest prospect of sleighing nearer 
than the slopes of Mt. Eainier. 

I have just asked all hands for the dark 
side of Oregon, not one could mention anything 
worth calling such. Mr. J. says the shades are 
so light as to be invisible. The grey squirrel on 
the south of the Columbia was the most formida- 
ble enemy to the farmer; more of that when I 
write next. 

My kindest love to all the dear children ; how 
I long to see them all again, particularly Anna ; 
O, that she may be a very good girl. Richard 

.[476] 



A CHEHALIS LETTER. 

and Allan often talk of writing to Avis and 
Lydia. How are Mr. and Mrs. Welch and fam- 
ily? How gladly would I welcome them to my 
humble cabin. I cannot help thinking, too, that 
Mrs. W. and I could enjoy ourselves here on 
the green sward and in looking at the beautiful 
evergreen shrubs and plants on the banks of the 
Chehalis, though we might be overtaken by a 
mild sprinkling. A canoe on the waters of that 
beautiful stream would help to compensate for 
the loss of a sleigh on the snows of Wisconsin, 
particularly when it can be enjoyed at the same 
season of the year. But I suppose I must look 
upon all this as a Utopian dream, as I expect 
few if any of you would barter your comfortable 
house for a log cabin; well, it is my home, and 
I hope I have not given you an exaggerated de- 
scription of it. I wished my husband to write a 
more particular description of the soil and its 
productions than I could give, but he was in no 
writing mood. He says the prairies as far as 
he has seen are not equal to Iowa or Illinois, but 
for climate and health he thinks Oregon equals 
if not surpasses most parts of the world. 

Well, I must bid you good-bye, with kind 
regards to Mr. and Mrs. Drummond, with all 
my other friends in Yorkville, Mr. Moyle and 
Susan, with all my friends and acquaintances in 
Caledonia. I will write again, all's well, about 
Christmas, and hope you will attend to the same 

[477] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

rate and write once in a month. Farewell my 
dear sister. Yours in true affection, 

A. M. James. 

P. S. — If Jane and Dick are married, I will 
risk saying that the best thing they can do is to 
come here. All the children send their love to 
you all. I should be thankful for a few flower 
seeds. 



[478] 



CHAPTER VI 

SOME PIONEERS OF PORT TOWNSEND. 

In Port Townsend and Seattle papers of 
1902 appeared the following items of history 
pertaining to settlers of Port Townsend: 

"Port Townsend, Feb. 15, 1902.— On Fri- 
day, February 21, there is to be held in Port 
Townsend a reunion of old settlers to celebrate 
the fiftieth anniversary of the landing at this 
place of some of the first white families to settle 
on Puget Sound north of the little town of 
iSteilacoom. 

Much interest is being manifested in the 
coming celebration among the old-timers on 
Puget Sound, many of whom have already re- 
sponded to invitations that have been sent them. 
Most of these letters contain interesting anec- 
dotes or references touching the past. One of 
them is from Judge E. D. Warbass, of San Juan 
county, who writes from "Idlewild," his country 
home, near Friday Harbor, under date of Febru- 
ary 1. In his letter to J. A. Kuhn, whom he ad- 
dresses as 'My Dear Ankutty Tillikum,' he says: 

'This is my birthday, born in A. D. 1825. 
Please figure up the time for yourself. I have 
just finished my breakfast and chores, and will 
get this letter off on the 9 o'clock mail. I am 
sincerely obliged for the honor of being invited 

[479] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

to come to the Port Townsend celebration and 
to prepare and read some reminiscences of my 
experiences during all these years. I hope to be 
able to do so, and will, if I can, but you know 
I am no longer the same rollicking Ed, but quite 
an old man. However, I am willing to contribute 
my mite towards making your celebration a suc- 
cess, and weather and health permitting, will be 
there. Delate mika siam.' 

A. A. Plummer, Sr., and Henry Bacheller 
came to Port Townsend by sailing vessel from 
San Francisco, in the fall of 1851, and remained 
here during the winter. A few days after they 
arrived here, L. B. Hastings and P. W. Petty- 
grove came in overland from Portland, carrying 
their blankets on their backs. They soon decided 
to return to Portland and bring their families 
over. Mr. Hastings arranged with Plummer and 
Bacheller to build a cabin for him by the time 
he returned. 

He and Pettygrove went back to Portland, 
and soon afterward Mr. Hastings bought the 
schooner Mary Taylor. He made up a party of 
congenial people, and on February 9, 1852, the 
Mary Taylor sailed from the Columbia river 
with the following named persons, and their fam- 
ilies, on board: L. B. Hastings, F. W. Petty- 
grove, Benjamin Ross, David Shelton, Thomas 
Tallentyre and Smith Hayes. The last named 
had no family. 

On February 19 the schooner passed in by 

[480] 



POET TOWNSEND PIONEEES. 

Cape Flattery, and on the afternoon of the 20th 
came upon the Hudson Bay settlement on Van- 
couver Island, at Victoria. Present survivors of 
the trip, who were then children, recall how their 
fathers lifted them up to their shoulders and 
pointed out the little settlement, telling them at 
the same time that that country belonged to 
England, and of their own purpose of crossing 
over to the American side and there establish- 
ing a home for themselves. That night the 
schooner dropped anchor in Port Townsend bay. 
Early next morning — February 21 — the 
schooner was boarded by Quincy A. Brooks, 
deputy collector and inspector of customs. Mr. 
Brooks had arrived here only a few hours ahead 
of the Mary Taylor, coming from Olympia and 
bringing with him the following customs inspec- 
tors: A. M. Poe, H. C. Wilson and A. B. Moses. 
These men had been sent here by the collector 
of customs to investigate stories of smuggling 
being carried on between the Hudson Bay Com- 
pany and Indians on the Sound. The customs 
officials were camped on the beach. With them 
were B. J. Madison and William Wilton, the 
former of whom later settled here. A. A. Plum- 
mer and Henry Bacheller were also camped on 
the beach here at the same time, having been 
here since their arrival from San Francisco in 
the preceding fall. 

Early in the forenoon of February 21 all 
on board the schooner Mary Taylor were land- 

17- [481] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 



ed on the beach and immediately began the work 
of carving out homes for themselves in what was 
then- a wilderness thickly inhabited by Indians. 
Mr. Hastings found . his cabin ready for occu- 
pancy, all but the roof ? which had not been put 
on. A temporary roof was constructed and the 
the family moved in. That night twelve inches 
of snow fell, it being the first snow that had 
fallen here during the entire winter. Mr. Hast-; 
ings' schooner afterward made several trips be- 
tween the Columbia river and the Sound, bring- 
ing additional families here. 

The present survivors of the Mary Taylor's 
passengers are the following: L. W. D. Shelton 
and his sister, Mary, Oregon C. Hastings, Frank 
W. Hastings, Maria Hastings Littlefield, Benj. 
S. Pettygrove and Sophia Pettygrove Mclntyre. 
All but Mr. Shelton and his sister and Oregon 
C. Hastings are residents of Port Townsend. 

Oregon 0. Hastings was born in Illinois in 
1845, and crossed the plains in 1849 with his 
parents. He is living in Victoria. 

Benjamin S. Pettygrove is a native of Port- 
land, Oregon, where he was born on September 
30, 1846. He was the first white male child born 
in Portland. 

Prank W. Hastings was born in Portland 
on November 16, 1848. 

Sophia Pettygrove was born in Portland on 
November 17, 1848. She was married on her 
17th birthday to Captain James Mclntyre, who 

[482] 



PORT TOWNSEND PIONEERS. 

lost Ms life a few weeks ago in the wreck of 
the steamship Bristol in Alaskan waters. 

Judge J. A. Kuhn is the moving spirit in 
the matter of these pioneers' reunions and in 
the organization of Native Sons and Native 
Daughters lodges. He made a promise to G. 
Morris Haller of Seattle, as far back as 1877, 
he says, that he would take up the organizations 
referred to, in the interest of history and re- 
search. The matter remained dormant, however, 
till the year 1893, when, on March 2, of that year, 
he instituted in Port Townsend, Jefferson Camp 
No. 1, Native Sons of Washington, with 12 mem- 
bers present. The camp now has 118 members. 
On July 3, 1895, he instituted in Port Townsend, 
Lucinda Hastings Parlor No. 1, Native Daugh- 
ters of Washington. There are now in the state 
nine camps of Native Sons and four parlors of 
Native Daughters. 

A. A. Plummer, Sr., now deceased, was one 
of the fathers of Port Townsend and was con- 
sidered quite a remarkable man. He was born 
in the state of Maine, March 3, 1822, and was a 
veteran of the Mexican war. He fought under 
Col. Stevens in that conflict and at its close went 
to California, going from there to Portland by 
sailing vessel in 1850. 

Major Quincy A. Brooks was the second 
deputy collector of customs ever sworn into the 
service in the Puget Sound district. In January, 
1852, he succeeded Elwood Evans as deputy col- 

[483] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

lector for the district. The collector of customs 
was then Simpson P. Moses, of Cincinnati, Ohio, 
and the custom house was located at Olympia." 

At the reunion on the 21st of February, 
1902, many things were brought to light. 

" Among the many stories of early days and 
reminiscences recalled at the pioneers' gather- 
ing one of the most interesting was Mr. Shelton 's 
story of the trip of the Mary Taylor from Port- 
land to Port Townsend. Mr. Shelton had com- 
mitted his reminiscences to manuscript as fol- 
lows: 

1 Fifty years ago, some time about the first 
of February, the little 75-ton schooner Mary 
Taylor left Portland, Ore., for Puget Sound, 
having on board the families of L. B. Hastings, 
F. W. Pettygrove, David Shelton, Thomas Tal- 
lentyre, Benjamin Boss and Smith Hayes. Mr. 
Hayes had no family here, but I think he had a 
family in the East. Mr. Boss had one son, about 
20 years old. 

'Our little craft was navigated by Captain 
Hutchinson and a crew of four or five men. The 
families were all old acquaintances. Those of 
Hastings, Boss and Shelton crossed the plains 
together in 1847, and concluded to cast their for- 
tunes together again in their last great move, 
which was to this country. 

'We lay at Astoria several days, waiting for 
a favorable opportunity to cross the bar. We 
made three trials before we ventured out to sea 

[484] 



POET TOWNSEND PIONEERS. 

and were three or four days getting up to Cape 
Flattery, where we lay quite a while in a calm. 
We found here that we were in soundings, and 
some of the party commenced fishing, but all 
they could catch were dog fish, which we tried 
to eat, but we found that they were not the kind 
of fish that we cared about. 

'Our first sight of Indians in this part of 
the country was off Neah Bay. We were drifting 
near Waadah Island, when canoes came swarm- 
ing out of their village in the bay. We had heard 
ugly stories about this tribe, and prepared for 
them by stacking our arms around the masts, to 
be handy in case of need. They were clamorous 
to come on board, but we thought that they were 
as well off in their canoes as they would be any- 
where else. Some of our party sauntered along 
the deck with guns in their hands, in view of the 
Indians. 

'The Indians then wanted to trade fish for 
tobacco and trinkets. A few pieces of tobacco 
were thrown into their canoes and then they 
commenced throwing fish aboard, and such fish 
for a landsman to look at! There were bull- 
heads, rock-cod, kelp-fish, mackerel, fish as flat 
as your hand, and skates, and other monstrosi- 
ties, the likes of which the most of our party had 
never seen before, and when our old cook dished 
them up for us at dinner we found that they were 
fine and delicious. There is where we made the 
acquaintance of sea-bass and rock-cod, and we 

[485] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

have cultivated their acquaintance ever since. 
There were also mussels and clams among the 
lot, which we found to be very good. We were 
surrounded by another lot of Indians near Clal- 
lam Bay, with about the same performances and 
with the same results as at Neah Bay. 

" Another incident that I recall happened 
near Dungeness spit. A couple of canoes filled 
with Indians came alongside and as there was 
only a few of them they were allowed to come 
on board. The tyee of the crowd introduced 
himself as Lord Jim. He wore a plug hat, a 
swallowtailed coat, a shirt and an air of im- 
mense importance. I suppose he had secured 
his outfit as a 'cultus potlatch' from persons he 
had met. He had evidently met several white 
people in his time, as he had a number of testi- 
monials as to his character as a good Indian. I 
remember of hearing one of his testimonials read 
and it impressed me as having come from one 
who had studied the Indian character to some 
effect. It read something like this : 

' To whom it may concern : This will intro- 
duce Lord Jim, a noted Indian of this part of 
the country. Look out for him or he will steal 
the buttons off your coat.' A further acquaint- 
ance with Lord Jim seemed to inspire the belief 
that the confidence of the writer was not mis- 
placed. 

" Shortly after we left Lord Jim we sailed 
along Protection Island, one of the beauty spots 

[486] 



PORT TOWNSEND PIONEERS. 

of the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Somewhere along 
here another thing happened — trivial in its na- 
ture — the memory of which has stayed with me 
all these years. Mr. Pettygrove was walking the 
deck in a meditative manner, when he happened 
to feel that he needed a cigar. He called to his 
son, Ben, about six years old, and told him to 
bring him some cigars. Ben wanted to know 
how many he should get. His father told him 
to get as many as he had fingers on both hands. 
Ben, proud of his commission, darted away and 
soon returned with eight cigars. His father 
looked at them a moment and said: 'How is 
this; you have only brought me eight cigars?' 
'Well, 5 said Ben, 'that is all the fingers I have.' 
'No,' said his father, 'you have ten on both your 
hands.' 'Why, no I haven't,' said Ben, 'two of 
them are thumbs,' and I guess Ben was right. 

"The next morning, after passing Dunge- 
ness Spit, we found our vessel anchored abreast 
of what is now the business part of Port Town- 
send, which was then a large Indian village. 
That was February 21, 1852, fifty years ago to- 
day. How it stirs the blood and quickens the 
memory to look back over those eventful years — 
eventful years for our state, our Pacific Coast 
and our entire country — and these years have 
been equally eventful for the little band that 
landed here that day so full of hope and energy. 

"Our fathers and mothers are all gone to 
their well-earned rest and reward. Of the thir- 

[487] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

teen children that were with them at that time 
nine are still living, and I am proud of the fact 
that they are all respectable citizens of the com- 
munity in which they live. They have seen all 
the history of this part of the country that 
amounts to much and in their humble way have 
helped to make it. They have helped conquer 
the wilderness and the savages and have done 
their share in laying the foundation of what will 
be one of the greatest states of our Union. Their 
fathers were men of honesty and more than ordi- 
nary force of character, as their deeds and labors 
in behalf of their country and families show, 
and the mothers of blessed memory — their chil- 
dred never realized the power for good they were 
in this world until they were grown and had fam- 
ilies of their own, but they know it now. They 
know now how they encouraged their husbands 
when dark days came; how they cheerfully 
shared the trials and hardships incident to those 
early pioneer days, and when brighter fortunes 
came they exercised the same helpful guiding in- 
fluence in their well ordered, comfortable homes 
that they did in their first log cabins in the wil- 
derness." 



[488] 










/ 



REV. D. E. BLAINE 
WILLIAM R. BOREN CARSON D. BOREN 



CHAPTER VII. 

PEKSONNEL OF THE PIONEEK AKMY. 

A long roll of honor I might call of the brave 
men and women who dared and strove in the 
wild Northwest of the long ago. If I speak of 
representative pioneers, those unnamed might 
be equally typical of the bold army of " forest- 
felling kings," "forest-fallers" as well as 
" fighters," like those Northland men of old. 

There are the names of Denny, Yesler, Phil- 
lips, Terry, Low, Boren, Butler, Bell, Mercer, 
Maple, Van Asselt, Horton, Hanf ord, McConaha, 
Smith, Maynard, Frye, Blaine and others who 
felled the forest and laid foundations at and near 
Seattle ; Briggs, Hastings, Van Bokkelin, Ham- 
mond, Pettygrove with others founded Port 
Townsend, while Lansdale, Crockett, Alexander, 
Cranney, Kellogg, Hancock, Izett, Busby, Ebey 
and Coupe, led the van for Whidby Island ; El- 
dridge and Eoeder at Bellingham Bay; towardr 
the head of navigation, McAllister, Bush, Sim- 
mons, Packwood, Chambers, Shelton, are a few 
of those who blazed the way. 

The blows of the sturdy forest-felling kings 
rang out from many a favored spot on the shores 
of the great Inland Sea, cheerful signals for the 
thousands to come after them. 

These, and the long list of the Here Un- 

17a- [489] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

named, waged the warfare of beginnings, which 
required such large courage, independence, per- 
sistence, faith and uncompromising toil, as th§ 
velvet-shod aftercomers can scarcely conceive of. 

Simultaneously with the early subjugation 
of the country, the political, educational, com- 
mercial and social initiatory movements were 
made of whose present development the people 
of Puget Sound may well be proud. 

Since the organization of the Washington 
Pioneer Association in October, 1883, the old 
pioneers and their children have met year by 
year in the lavish month of June to recount their 
adventures, toils and privations, and enjoy the 
sympathy begotten of similar experiences, in the 
midst of modern ease and plenty. 

A concourse of this kind in Seattle evoked 
the following words of appreciation: 

"No organization, no matter what its nature 
might be, could afford the people of Seattle more 
gratification by holding its assemblage in their 
midst than is afforded them by the action of the 
Pioneers' Association of Washington Territory 
in holding its annual gathering in this city. Un- 
like conventions and gatherings in which only 
a portion of the community is interested, the 
meeting of the pioneers is interesting to all. To 
some, of course, the event is of more importance 
than to others, but all have an interest in the 
Pioneers' Association, all have a pride in the 
achievement of its members, and all can feel that 

[490] 



PERSONNEL OF THE PIONEER ARMY. 

they are the beneficiaries of the struggle and 
hardships of which the pioneers tell. 

"The reminiscences of the pioneers from 
the history of the first life breathings of our com- 
monwealth — of a commonwealth which, though 
in its infancy, is grand indeed, and which gives 
promise of attaining greatness in the full ma- 
turity of its powers of which those who laid the 
foundations of the state scarcely dreamed. The 
pioneers are the fathers of the commonwealth; 
their struggles and their hardships were the 
struggles and the hardships of a state coming 
into being. They cleared the forests, not for 
themselves alone, but for posterity and for all 
time. As they subdued a wild and rugged land 
and prepared it to sustain and support its share 
of the people of the earth, each blow of their ax 
was a blow destined to resound through all time, 
each furrow turned by their ploughshares that 
the earth might yield again and again to their 
children's children so long as man shall inhabit 
the earth. No stroke of work done in the prog- 
ress of that great labor was done in vain. None 
of the mighty energy was lost. Each tree that 
fell, fell never to rise. Each nail driven in a 
settler's hut was a nail helping to bind together 
the fabric of the community. Each day's labor 
was given to posterity more surely than if it 
had been sold for gold to be buried in the earth 
and brought forth by delighted searchers cen- 
turies hence. 

[491] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 



it 



It is for this that we honor the pioneers. 
It is for this that we are proud and happy to 
have them meet among us. We are their heirs. 
Our inheritance is the fruit of their labor, the 
reward of their fortitude, the recompense of 
their hardships. The home of today, the center 
of comfort and contentment, the very soul of the 
state, could not have been but for the log cabins 
of forty years ago. The imposing edifice of 
learning, the complete system of education, could 
not have been but for the crude school house of 
the past. The churches and religious institutions 
of today are the result of the untiring and un- 
selfish labors of the itinerant preacher who wan- 
dered back and forth, now painfully picking his 
way through the forest, now threading with his 
frail canoe the silver streams, now gliding over 
the calm waters of the Sound, ever laying broad 
and deep the true foundations of the grand civili- 
zation that was to be. The flourishing cities, the 
steel rails that bind us to the world, the stately 
steamers that, behemoth-like, journey to and fro 
in our waters, — these things could not be but for 
the rude straggling hamlets, the bridle path cut 
with infinite labor through the most impenetra- 
ble of forests, and the canoe which darted arrow- 
like through gloomy passages, over bright bays 
and up laughing waters. 

"All honor to the pioneers — all honor and 
welcome. We say it who are their heirs, we 
whose homes are on the land which they re- 

[492] 




MRS. LYDIA C. LOW 



PERSONNEL OP THE PIONEER ARMY. 

claimed from the forests, we who till the fields 
that they first tilled, we whose pride and glory is 
the grand land-locked sea on which they gazed 
delighted so many years ago. Welcome to them, 
and may they come together again and again as 
the years pass away. When their eyes are dim 
with age and their hair is as white as the snows 
that cover the mountains they love, may they 
still see the land which they created the home 
of a great, proud people, a people loving the land 
they love, a people honoring and obeying the laws 
that they have honored and obeyed so long, a 
people honoring, glorying in, the flag which they 
bore over treeless plains, over lofty mountains, 
over raging torrents, through suffering and 
danger, always proudly, always confidently, al- 
ways hopefully, until they planted it by the shore 
of the Western sea in the most beautiful of all 
lands. May each old settler, as he journeys year 
by year toward the shoreless sea, over whose 
waters he must journey away, feel that the flag 
which he carried so far and so bravely will wave 
forever in the soft southwestern breeze, which 
kisses his furrowed brow and toys with his sil- 
very hair. May he feel, too, that the love of the 
people is with him, that they watch him, lovingly, 
tenderly, as he journeys down the pathway, and 
the story of his deeds is graven forever on their 
minds, and love and honor forever on their 
hearts." 

And so do I, a descendent of a long line of 

T493] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

pioneers in America, reiterate, " Honor the Pio- 
neers." 

lydia c. LOW. 

Mrs. Low was one of the party that landed 
at Alki, Nov. 13th, 1851, having crossed the 
plains with her husband and children. 

I have heard her tell of seeing my father, 
D. T. Denny, the lone white occupant of Alki, 
as she stepped ashore from the boat that carried 
the passengers from the schooner. 

The Lows did not make a permanent set- 
tlement there, but moved to a farm back of 
Olympia, thence to Sonoma, Cal., and back 
again to Puget Sound, where they made their 
home at Snohomish for many years. Mrs. Low 
was the mother of a large family of nine chil- 
dren, who shared her pioneer life. Some died 
in childhood, accidents befell others, a part were 
more fortunate, yet she seemed in old age serene, 
courageous, undaunted as ever, faithful and 
true, lovely and beloved. 

She passed from earth away on Dec. 11th, 
1901, her husband, John D. Low, having pre- 
ceded her a number of years before. 

OTHEE PIONEEKS. 

Both Mr. and Mrs. Izett of Whidby Island 
are pioneers of note. Mrs. Izett crossed the 
plains in 1847, and in 1852 came to the Sound 
on a visit, at the same time Mr. Izett happened 
to arrive. He persuaded her not to return to 

[494] 



PERSONNEL OF THE PIONEER ARMY. 

her old home. Mr. Izett in 1850 went to India 
from England by way of Cape Horn, and two 
years later came to Seattle. For four years lie 
secured spars for the British government at Ut- 
salady. In 1859 he built the first boat of any 
size to be constructed on Puget Sound. This 
was a 100-ton schooner, and she was built at 
Oak Harbor. In 1862 he framed two of the first 
Columbia river steamers. Mrs. Izett is a sister 
of Mrs. F. A. Chenoweth, whose husband was a 
judge, with four associates, of the first Wash- 
ington territorial tribunal. Another of the mem- 
bers was Judge McFadden. Mr. Izett knew well 
Gen. Isaac I. Stevens, the first governor of the 
territory. He came to Washington in the fall 
of 1859, and issued his first proclamation as gov- 
ernor the following February. The legislature 
met soon after." 

j. w. MAPLE. 

"John Wesley Maple was not only one of 
the oldest settlers of this (King) county, but he 
was one of its most prominent men. He figured 
to some extent in political life, but during the 
last few years had retired to the homestead by 
the Duwamish, where his father had settled after 
crossing the plains nearly fifty years ago, and 
where he himself met his death yesterday. (In 
March of 1902.) 

He was born in Guernsey county, Ohio, Jan- 
uary 1, 1840. As a little boy he spent his child- 

[495] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

hood days near the farm of the McKinleys, and 
often during his later years he was fond of re- 
lating apple stealing expeditions in which he 
indulged as a little boy, and for which the father 
of the late President McKinley often chastised 
him. From Ohio his father, Jacob Maple, moved 
to Keokuk, la., where he lived near the farm on 
which Mayor Humes, of Seattle, was reared. 

In 1856, Jacob Maple, the father, and Sam- 
uel Maple, the brother of John W., came to 
Puget Sound. In 1862 the rest of the family 
followed them. In crossing the plains John W. 
Maple was made captain of the four wagon 
trains which were united in the expedition. He 
guided them to Pendleton, Ore., where they sep- 
arated. Thence he came to the Duwamish river, 
where his father and brother had settled. 

Later Mr. Maple and Samuel Snyder took 
up a homestead on Squak slough. A few years 
after that Mr. Maple went to Bllensburg. He 
finally returned to spend the rest of his life on 
the homestead. 

HELD MANY OFFICES. 

In the early days he was several times elect- 
ed to county offices. He was at one time super- 
visor for the road district extending from Yes- 
ler way to O'Brien station and to Eenton. In 
1896 he was elected treasurer of King county on 
the Populist ticket. He furnished a bond of 
$1,600,000. At the end of his term a shortage 

[496] 



PERSONNEL OF THE PIONEER ARMY. 

was found. Every cent of this was finally made 
good by him to those who stood on his bond. 

In 1897 Mr. Maple received a complimen- 
tary vote on the part of several members of the 
state legislature for the office of United States 
senator. For this office his neighbors indorsed 
him, and August Toellnor, of Van Asselt, was 
sent by them to Olympia to see what could be 
done to further the candidacy. Since the end of 
his term as treasurer Mr. Maple has held no 
office, save that of school director in his district. 
Only a week ago Mr. Maple announced to his 
friends that he had left the Populist party and 
had returned to the Republican party, to which 
he had belonged prior to the wave of Populism 
which swept over the West in the early nineties. 

During all of his life he was an ardent stu- 
dent of literature, and he possessed one of the 
finest libraries in the state. He was known as 
a strong orator, and was during his younger days 
an exhorter in the Methodist Protestant church, 
of which he was a member. 

Mr. Maple was married twice. His first 
wife, who died more than twenty years ago, was 
Elizabeth Snyder, a daughter of Samuel Sny- 
der, one of the oldest residents of the Duwam- 
ish valley. Six children were the fruit of this 
union, Charles, Alvin B., Cora, now Mrs. Frank 
Patten ; Dora, now Mrs. Charles Norwich ; Bes- 
sie, now dead, and Clifford J. Maple. His second 
wife was Minnie Borella. Three children were 

[497] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

born to her, Telford C, Lelah and Beulah Maple. 
Of his brothers and sisters the following are 
living : Mrs. Katherine Van Asselt and Mr. Eli 
B. Maple, of this city ; Mrs. Jane Cavanaugh, of 
California; Mrs. Elvira Jones and Mrs. Ruth 
Smith, of Kent, and Aaron Maple, who now 
lives on the old Maple homestead in Iowa." 

CHARLES PROSCH AND THOMAS PROSCH. 



u 



The summer in which the gold excitement 
broke out in the Colville country, in 1855," said 
Thomas Prosch, " several members of a party of 
gold hunters from Seattle were massacred by 
the Indians in the Yakima Valley while on their 
way to the gold fields. The party went through 
Snoqualmie Pass in crossing the mountains. The 
territorial legislature sent word to Washington 
and the government undertook to punish the 
guilty tribes by a detachment of troops under 
Maj. Haller. This was defeated and war fol- 
lowed for several years. It was most violent in 
King county in 1855 and 1856, and in Eastern 
Washington in 1857 and 1858. The principal 
incidents in the West were the massacre of the 
whites in 1855 and the attack upon Seattle the 
following year. In 1857 Col. Steptoe sustained 
a memorable defeat on the Eastern side of the 
mountains, and the hostilities were terminated 
by the complete annihilation of the Indian forces 
in the same locality the following year by Col. 
Wright. He killed 1,000 horses and. hanged 

[498] 



PERSONNEL OF THE PIONEER ARMY. 

many of the Indians besides the frightful car- 
nage of the battlefield." 

Mr. Prosch and his father, Charles Prosch, 
with several other members of his family, ar- 
rived in the state and in Seattle between the years 
1849 and 1857. Gen. M. M. Carver, the founder 
of Tacoma, who was Mrs. Thomas Prosch 's 
father, came to the territory in 1843 with Dr. 
Whitman, who was massacreed, with Applegate 
and Nesmith." 

Time and strength would fail me did I at- 
tempt to obtain and record accounts of many 
well known pioneers ; I must leave them to other 
more capable writers. However, I will briefly 
mention some who were prominent during my 
childhood. 

The Hortons, Dexter Horton and Mrs. Hor- 
ton, the latter a stout, rosy-cheeked matron 
whose house and garden, particularly the dahlias 
growing in the yard, elicited my childish admira- 
tion. I remember how certain little pioneer girls 
were made happy by a visit from her, at which 
time she fitted them with her own hands some 
pretty grey merino dresses trimmed with nar- 
row black velvet ribbon. Also how one of them 
was impressed by the sorrow she could not con- 
ceal, the tears ran down her cheeks as she spoke 
of a child she had lost. 

One family have never forgotten the Santa 
Claus visit to their cottage home, the same being 
impersonated by Dexter Horton, who departed 

f499] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

after leaving some substantial tokens of his good 
will. 

The pioneer ministers of the Gospel were 
among the most fearless of foundation builders. 
Eeverends Wm. Close, Alderson, Franklin, 
Doane, Bagley, Whitworth, Belknap, Greer, 
Mann, Atwood, Hyland, Prefontaine, and oth- 
ers; of Eev. C. Alderson, who often visited my 
father and mother, Hon. Allen Weir has this to 
say: 

"I remember very clearly when, during the 
" sixties," Brother Alderson used to visit the 
settlement in which my father's family lived at 
Dungeness, in Clallam county, Washington Ter- 
ritory. He was then stationed at White Elver, 
twelve miles or more south of Seattle. There 
was no Tacoma in those days. To reach Dung- 
ness, Brother Alderson had to walk over a muddy 
road a dozen miles or more to Seattle, then by 
the old steamer Eliza Anderson to Port Town- 
send, and then depend upon an Indian canoe 
twenty-five miles to the old postoffice at Elliot 
Cline's house. After his arrival it would require 
several days to get word passed around among 
the neighbors so as to get a preaching announce- 
ment circulated. Sometimes he would preach at 
Mr. Cline's house, sometimes at Alonzo Davis', 
and sometimes at my father's. He was literally 
blazing the trail where now is an highway. The 
first announcement of these services in the Dun- 
geness river bottom was when a bearded, muddy- 

[500] 



PERSONNEL OF THE PIONEER ARMY. 

booted old bachelor from Long Prairie stopped 
to halloo to father and interrupt log piling and 
stump clearing long enough to say: "H-a-y ! Mr. 
Weir! The's a little red-headed Englishman 
goin' to preach at Cline's on Sunday! Better go 
an' git your conschense limbered up." Every- 
body knew the road to Cline's. At each meeting 
the audience was limited to the number of set- 
tlers within a dozen miles. All had to attend or 
proclaim themselves confirmed heathen. The 
preacher, who came literally as the " Voice of 
one crying in the wilderness," was manifestly 
not greatly experienced at that time in his work 
— but he was intensely earnest, courageous, out- 
spoken, a faithful messenger; and under his 
ministrations many were reminded of their old- 
time church privileges "back in old Mizzoory," 
in "Kentuck," or in "Eelinoy," or elsewhere. 
I remember that to my boyish imagination it 
seemed a wonderful amount of "grit" was re- 
quired to carry on his gospel work. He made 
an impression as an honest toiler in the vine- 
yard, and was accepted at par value for his 
manly qualities. He was welcomed to the hos- 
pitable homes of the people. If we could not 
always furnish yellow-legged chickens for din- 
ner we always had a plentiful supply of bear 
meat or venison. 

After Brother Alderson returned to Oregon 
I never met him again, except at an annual con- 
ference in Albany (in 1876, I think it was), but 

[501] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

I always remembered him kindly as a sturdy 
soldier of the Cross who improved his opportuni- 
ties to administer reproof and exhortation. The 
memory is a benediction." 

Of agreeable memory is Mrs. S. D. Libby, 
to whom the pioneer women were glad to go for 
becoming headgear — and the hats were very 
pretty, too, as well as the wearers, in those days. 
Good straw braids were valued and frequently 
made over by one who had learned the bleacher's 
and shaper's art in far Illinois. 

A little pioneer girl used often to rip the 
hats to the end that the braids might be made 
to take some new and fashionable form. 

"The beautiful Bonney girls," Emmeline, 
Sarah and Lucy, afterward well known as Mrs. 
Shorey, Mrs. G. Kellogg and Mrs. Geo. Harris, 
might each give long and interesting accounts 
of early times. Others I think of are the John 
Ross family, whose sons and daughters are 
among the few native white children of pioneer 
families of Seattle (the Ross family were our 
nearest neighbors for a long time, and good 
neighbors they were, too) ; the Peter Andrews 
family, the Maynards, who were among the 
earliest and most prominent settlers ; Mrs. May- 
nard did many a kindness to the sick ; the Samuel 
Coombs family, of whom "Sam Coombs," the 
patriarch, known to all, is a great lover and ad- 
mirer of pioneers; Ray Coombs, his son, the 
artist, and Louisa, his daughter, one of the belles 

[502] 



PERSONNEL OF THE PIONEER ARMY. 

of early times; the L. B. Andrews family; Mr. 
Andrews was a friend of Grandfather John 
Denny, and himself a pioneer of repute ; his fair, 
pleasant, blue-eyed daughter was my schoolmate 
at the old U., then new; the Hanfords, valued 
citizens, now so distinguished and so well known ; 
Mrs. Hanford's account of the stirring events of 
early days was recognized and drawn from by 
the historian Bancroft in compiling his great 
work; the De Lins; the Burnetts, long known 
and much esteemed ; the Sires family ; the Har- 
mons, Woodins, Campbells, Plummers, Hinds, 
Weirs of Dungeness, later of Olympia, of whom 
Allen Weir is well known and distinguished ; yes, 
and Port Gamble, Port Madison, Steilacoom and 
Olympia people, what volumes upon volumes 
might have been, might be written — it will take 
many a basket to hold the chips to be picked up 
after their and our Blazing the Way. 

HAIL, AOT) FAKEWELL. 

Heroic Pioneers! 

Of kings and conquerors fully peers ; 

Well may the men of later day 

Proclaim your deeds, crown you with bay ; 

Forest-fallers, reigning kings, 

In that far time that memory brings. 

Nor savage beast, nor savage man, 

Majestic forests' frowning ban, 

Could palsy arms or break the hearts, 

Till wilds gave way to busy marts; 

You served your time and country well, 

Let tuneful voices paeans swell! 

[503] 



BLAZING THE WAY. 

0, steadfast Pioneers! 

Bowed 'neath the snows of many years, 

Your patient courage never fails, 

Your strong true prayers arise, 

E'en from the heavenly trails 

To ''mansions in the skies.' ' 

To noble ones midst daily strife, 

And those who 've crossed the plains of life, 

Far past the fiery, setting sun, 

The dead and living loved as one, 

(Tolls often now the passing bell) 

We greeting give and bid farewell. 

Mother Pioneers! 

We greet you through our smiles and tears ; 

You laid foundations deep, 

Climbed oft the sun-beat rocky steep 

Of sorrow's mountain wild, 

Descended through the shadowy vales 

Led by the little child. 

Within, without your cabins rude 

As toiling builders well you wrought, 

With busy hands and constant hearts, 

And eager children wisdom taught; 

Long be delayed the passing bell, 

Long be it ere we say "Farewell!" 

Beloved Pioneers! 
Whom glory waits in coming years, 
You planted here with careful hand 
The youngest scion in our land 
Cut from the tree of Liberty; 
To fullest stature it shall grow, 
With fruitful branches bending low, 
Your worth then shall the people know. 
When all your work on earth is done, 
Your marches o'er and battles won, 
(No more will toll the passing bell) 
They'll watch and wait at Heaven's gate 
To bid you Hail! and nevermore, Farewell! 







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